No filter necessary

While I admit the truth hurts in many a case, unfiltered truths coming from the mouth of a three-and-a-half-year-old do no harm at all. Especially when the pint-sized truth-bearer is Bubby.

Bubby has a lot of toys. More toys than many a kid needs or could possibly ever play with. So when choosing a small gift to send my grandsons for Valentine's Day, I settled on some dinnerware from the Target dollar bin that sported robots on the plates, bowls, and eating utensils for Bubby. I packed them into a gift bag decorated with a robot, and added a box of chocolate/peanut butter candies and a lollipop decorated with a scene from The Adventures of Tin Tin.

I thought it was a pretty darn good gift, considering that Bubby and I—at his urging—did a lot of conversing in robot talk when we were last together, that chocolate and peanut butter are the only food groups he willingly consumes, and that he joyfully expressed his love for the Tin Tin movie when he and I saw it together.

I got a call Valentine's Day evening. Bubby's sweet little voice on the other end immediately announced, "Happy Valentimes Day, Gramma. Thank you for the package."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie!" I said. "How did you like it?"

"I really needed a toy," Bubby replied in a serious tone.

"Yeah, but you have lots of toys," I told him. "Now you can think of Gramma every time you eat on your robot dishes."

"Oh," he said, still quite serious. "I really needed a toy."

At that point, Megan took over the phone. "Ah, the truthfulness of a three-year-old," she said.

If it were anyone else responding to my gift in such a way, I might be offended. Not at all with Bubby, though. He probably really did feel like he needed a new toy and Gramma's lack of compliance clearly disappointed. Nothing wrong with him telling it like it is.

Bubby's response to the gift didn't surprise me a bit as he usually does tell it like it is. And sometimes his lack of a filter is just so darn sweet that he's forgiven for those times when it's not.

The purpose of my recent trip to the desert was for me to stay with my grandsons while Megan and Preston attended an out-of-state conference related to Preston's job. Late into the third day of babysitting duty, I sat in the rocker feeding Baby Mac when Bubby, who had been in the nearby playroom, sidled up to the side of the rocker, leaned his head on my arm and said in the most woebegone of voices, "I have a picture of Mommy and Daddy. I just wish it was real. I miss them double."

Oh, sweet sorrow unfiltered.

Bubby's expressions of love and joy are equally unfiltered. Later that same day, Bubby was tickling Baby Mac, causing them both to giggle up a storm. Bubby finished up the tickle session, nonchalantly walked away from his baby brother, and turned to tell me, "I love him bad. And he loves me bad."

When I later relayed both Bubbyisms to Megan, she responded with, "Awww...my little love bunny."

And a love bunny he certainly is. An unfiltered love bunny, that is, for better or worse.

I'm crossing my fingers Bubby remains unfiltered for many more years to come, for I wouldn't want my grandson any other way—even if it means hearing the truth about gifts from Gramma that weren't exactly what the little love bunny had hoped for. Or needed.

Today's question:

Which of your relationships would most benefit from a better filter—on statements made by you or to you?

Savor the moments

Jim and I had three daughters in a short period of time. There are 16 months between the oldest and the middle daughters, 19 months between the middle and the youngest. Which means, obviously, our daughters are very close in age. In fact, for one month out of each year—roughly mid July to mid August—the girls' ages are consecutive.

Which also means, obviously, I was one very busy mama while raising them. I felt hurried and harried much of the time, and I rarely stopped to savor the sweetest and simplest of moments with my three girls, from their toddler to their teen years.

I'm trying to not make the same mistake as a grandma.

Things are pretty clear cut with Baby Mac because as an eight-month-old, what he wants, he pretty much needs...and gets. With three-and-a-half-year-old Bubby, though, it's different. His needs are met; his wants are up for negotiation. That's where my tack as a grandmother differs from the tack I took as a mother. When Bubby requests my participation, my attention, I do my best to stop the busy work and savor the moment. As long as his requests are reasonable, that is. And most reasonable he proved to be during my recent visit to the desert.

For example, "Gramma, can you play train with me?" was a reasonable request. So, despite not being one for typically enjoying sitting on the floor—and Baby Mac needing some attention, too—I busied Mac with some blocks, plopped down next to Bubby, and followed his lead of "You be Henry, Gramma, and I'll be Thomas." Moment savored.

Another instance: Bubby's bedtime routine typically features one bedtime story read. One night we finished the chosen book, and I stood from his bed to tuck him in, kiss him goodnight, and head out the door. "Can we please read this one, too?" Bubby pleaded, holding up a book. "It's soooo funny!" So I did, all the while savoring his snickers at "There Was A Cold Lady Who Swallowed Some Snow," savoring his sense of humor, savoring the moment.

When Bubby asked, "Gramma, can we build a fort?" I didn't hem and haw about the mess it would make. Instead, Bubby and I together built the fort to beat all forts, with tunnels and secret passages and cardboard boxes blocking out the light. Moment savored...and video captured of Bubby and Baby Mac savoring the fort again and again and again, with giggles galore as they chased one another through tunnels and more.

At snack time, Bubby wanted his snack in the fort. At naptime, he wanted the bedtime story read—to both him and Baby Mac—in the fort. Both requests filled. Easily. Both moments savored. Surely.

At the park, Bubby asked if I'd climb up the play structure and "play pirate" with him. Baby Mac slept in his stroller, within viewing distance, of course, as Bubby and I climbed and slid and shouted "Look out, Captain! They're after us!" again and again. Moment savored.

Most mornings of my visit, Bubby woke me with a gentle nudge on my knee—except for the first morning when he slammed open my bedroom door and shouted, "GRAMMA! It's morning time!" (My freakout at his announcement led to knee nudges going forward, I'm sure.) One day when I woke before him, Bubby watched me from the open bathroom door and said, "Gramma, after you're done brushing your teeth, will you start your day with me?" Request easily filled as that was my intent anyway. The sweet moment of his request, though, especially savored.

Requests of "Will you jump with me, Gramma?" brought leaps and bounds of joy each and every time we giggled and wiggled and waggled about on the trampoline—which was pretty much each and every time Bubby asked me to do so. And my request to him one night to lie quietly on the trampoline and look at the stars together was enthusiastically met with a resounding "Yes!" That grandson of mine, he truly gives as good as he gets. Moments savored—by both of us.

One of Bubby's favorite cartoons is Olivia, which begins with the inflation of a pirate ship bouncy house. Once, a discussion of bouncy houses ensued after the program began, and Bubby gushed about the most awesome of parties he was scheduled to soon attend. "It's gonna be so cool! There's gonna be a bouncy house and pizza!" he raved. "Do you want to come, Gramma? Maybe you can ask PawDad if you can come!"

This was one of Bubby's few unreasonable requests. Not because I wouldn't be in town at the time of the party or because I'm sure the guest of honor wasn't expecting grandmas to join in. No, I thought it unreasonable—and, more so, surprising—that Bubby naturally assumed I had to ask PawDad's permission to go to the party. My I-am-woman-hear-me-roar sensibilities wanted me to explain to Bubby that I don't need PawDad's permission to go to the party, that I didn't need his permission to do anything. Women, I considered telling my grandson, don't need permission from a man to do anything—we can do anything we choose.

What I chose to do, though, was to not tell Bubby those things. There's plenty of time for him to learn such lessons—and woefully little time that a precious boy earnestly and enthusiastically extends to his grandma invitations to birthday parties with pizza and bouncy houses.

What I chose to do was savor that fleeting moment instead.

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

A moment I recently savored with my grandchildren or children was ___________.

Tunnels

Two boys + two tunnels = tons of fun! 

Today's question:

Where have you found fun the past few days?

Nine days

Today's question:

What do you look forward to in the next nine days?

Toddler gratitude

As a Thanksgiving activity, Bubby and his preschool classmates crafted turkeys made of footprints and feathers. On each work of art, the teacher wrote what each toddler said he or she was thankful for.

Here is a photo of Bubby's masterpiece:

Did you catch what Bubby is thankful for? Bath toys. Yes, bath toys! Nary a mention of a loving Mommy and Daddy, an adorable baby brother, a cozy home, abundant health, always having plenty to eat.

And that's okay. Because, at three years old, Bubby surely takes for granted that all little boys, all little girls have such things.

At three years old, Bubby is blissfully unaware of the profundity of his good fortune, his bountiful blessings.

At three years old, Bubby surely has no idea that life could be any different.

For that, I am truly grateful.

Today's question:

Name one thing from your day so far that you're grateful for?