Being a Goof and Grinning with Grandson, Jay
Twelve-year-old grandson, Jay (Joseph), is musically gifted. So are his three brothers. On last visit, we got a chance to sit under a tree and talk. I told him I was also gifted, that I played a wind instrument. He was impressed and asked which one. I told him the whistle. He grinned and rolled his eyes. I told him I arrived at tryouts, but they told me to go away and not come back. He's a good kid and we are buddies.
Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8H11
gracepointamerica.org
Showing posts with label Family: Grandsons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family: Grandsons. Show all posts
20080804
Bennett
Two-year-old grandson Bennett is learning boundaries. During this weekend’s visit, he had a notion he wanted to roam about in the house while grandmother prepared lunch, so I took him to his playroom.
“Out,” Bennett said, pointing in the direction he hoped to go.
“No, Bennett," I said with a wide-eyed grin, "It's you and me."
“Out!” he insisted.
“Me and you!” I answered again in a silly tone.
“Out!” he laughed.
“Me and You,” I continued with more silliness, picking up Mr. Truck to ask if he had seen Mr. Ball Head, then on to inspect and question his pile of toys, one at a time.
Later, brother Thomas joined Bennett briefly to play, but soon, he was ready to move on.
“No!” Bennett called to him, “Me and you!”
Bennett is the youngest of four and sometimes needs to compete for attention when together with his brothers, so he has discovered acting out. This weekend, he also discovered Granddad’s time out, that instead of in a corner, it is in my lap, and that Granddad has strong arms.
“You have three minutes for time out,” I said, and I held up three fingers. Bennett squirmed to escape, then began to whimper.
“I know,” I said softly while stroking and patting his head and arms, “I’m sorry.”
Bennett’s resistance increased and his whimpers turned into a heartbreaking cry. But the more he cried, the more I stroked his head and arms and told him that I understood and was sorry, also to remind him how many fingers were remaining for time out.
When I held up one finger, the worst of Bennett’s resistance and crying was over and he was back to whimpering and some wiggling. Then the wiggling stopped. The only sounds became his soft whimpering and the assurance of my voice that I understood.
“Time out’s over,” I finally said to Bennett, and I relaxed my arms. But Bennett turned over and pressed his head to my chest for another ten minutes to enjoy granddad’s full attention.
Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8H04
gracepointamerica.org
Two-year-old grandson Bennett is learning boundaries. During this weekend’s visit, he had a notion he wanted to roam about in the house while grandmother prepared lunch, so I took him to his playroom.
“Out,” Bennett said, pointing in the direction he hoped to go.
“No, Bennett," I said with a wide-eyed grin, "It's you and me."
“Out!” he insisted.
“Me and you!” I answered again in a silly tone.
“Out!” he laughed.
“Me and You,” I continued with more silliness, picking up Mr. Truck to ask if he had seen Mr. Ball Head, then on to inspect and question his pile of toys, one at a time.
Later, brother Thomas joined Bennett briefly to play, but soon, he was ready to move on.
“No!” Bennett called to him, “Me and you!”
Bennett is the youngest of four and sometimes needs to compete for attention when together with his brothers, so he has discovered acting out. This weekend, he also discovered Granddad’s time out, that instead of in a corner, it is in my lap, and that Granddad has strong arms.
“You have three minutes for time out,” I said, and I held up three fingers. Bennett squirmed to escape, then began to whimper.
“I know,” I said softly while stroking and patting his head and arms, “I’m sorry.”
Bennett’s resistance increased and his whimpers turned into a heartbreaking cry. But the more he cried, the more I stroked his head and arms and told him that I understood and was sorry, also to remind him how many fingers were remaining for time out.
When I held up one finger, the worst of Bennett’s resistance and crying was over and he was back to whimpering and some wiggling. Then the wiggling stopped. The only sounds became his soft whimpering and the assurance of my voice that I understood.
“Time out’s over,” I finally said to Bennett, and I relaxed my arms. But Bennett turned over and pressed his head to my chest for another ten minutes to enjoy granddad’s full attention.
Don Loy Whisnant/Journey Notes 8H04
gracepointamerica.org
20071201
Bonding a Bit with Boomer
I don't very often get to see just-turned five year old grandson, Little Jonathan (Boomer, I call him), so bonding doesn't get renewed enough. On a recent visit with family we went to a nearby park after lunch where Boomer and I set out for a walk together. As we walked he chattered and I picked with him a little bit. When we came up on a shelter I whispered in a mock panic
"Did you see that?"
"Did I see what, Granddaddy?" he asked wide-eyed
"There is something up there in those rafters," I said. "I'm afraid to look! Can you go look to see what it is?"
He took about a half a step to peek and said, "No, I don’t see anything."
"Look again," I said, "It’s going like this..." and I put my thumbs in my ears, wiggled my fingers, and shook my head with my tongue hanging out.
He peeked again and said, "I don’t see anything going..." and he put his thumbs in his ears, wiggled his little fingers, and shook his head with his tongue hanging out. We carried on like that most of the day.
Later his dad was taking him down to the dock on the lake. Boomer turned to me like a little grownup person and said, "Granddaddy, would you like to join us?"
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