April 9, 2007

• Will You Be My Grandma?

  New neighbors moved in next door to my in-laws.  This is the kind of family that is often featured in newspaper insert magazines.  Two ordinary people open their home and their family to foster and adopt several kids from difficult backgrounds.   This  family has a van-load of children with varying abilities and disabilities.

  My in-laws are the loveliest people, a rare combination of tidy + tidy.  Their life is neat, clean, ordered, structured, and predictable.  Enter the new neighbors. 

  Grandma (what we call my MIL) was in the backyard working when  a four-year old  towhead  came to the fence. 

  “Hey!” he hollered, “Can I throw rocks into your backyard?”

  “No,” Grandma said in measured tones, “But if you would like, you can drop them through the fence near this rose.”

  For an hour the little blonde boy was occupied looking for rocks to deposit through the chain-link fence. Eventually he approached for more chat.

  “My name is Danny,” he volunteered.  “What are you?”

  “What am I?”  she repeated, tilting her head.  “I’m a Grandma!”

  He was silent for a moment, staring into her eyes.  “Will you be my Grandma?”

  She hesitated, uncomfortable with the frank question.  Weighing the options, in a millisecond, she decided.  “Yes, Danny, I’ll be your Grandma.”

  That night his folks were tucking him into bed and saying prayers, when little Danny revolted. 

  “I–Want–My–Grandma to tuck me in and pray with me!”

  Mystified, they asked couldn’t imagine who he was talking about.  A little probing brought illumination.  Their neighbor had said she’d be his grandma.  They explained that she wouldn’t be able to come over and tuck him in every night, but that was nice, wasn’t it, that she said she’d be his grandma.

  The next day one of the older boys  was running around and spotted Grandma.  He waved and shouted, “Hi, Grandma!”  Danny was furious.  “That’s.   My.  Grandma!”

  • 5:13 pm
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