The G-Five — Loving grandchildren
It was my birthday weekend, and all the grandkids were getting together to celebrate with me.
The celebration started with my taking all of them to the theater to see a kid’s movie, and between popcorn, candy, punch, and tickets, we could have started another college fund, but it’s only money.
That night, all of the grandkids were staying at my daughter’s house for a sleep over.
At 9:45 p.m. we finished watching “Monster’s U” and everyone headed off to brush their teeth, to get into their nightgowns and P.J’s. and get tucked into bed. That’s where story begins.
The two older girls were supposed to sleep on the futon beside my double bed, and the two younger girls each were assigned a single bed in the room down the hall.
The oldest, the boy, had his own room and went to bed quickly and quietly. It was then that the two oldest girls, 7 and 8, jumped into my bed.
To say that it made things crowded would be like discussing the proverbial angels on pin heads query.
I was hanging onto the side of the bed and praying that no one would move.
Suddenly, the little girls began screaming in their room that their oldest cousin was scaring them because he was making zombie sounds. I told them it would be fine, but I was wrong.
About five minutes later, I heard zombie noises in our doorway and found him on the floor at the entrance to the room.
After a little grandfatherly discussion, I helped him get back to his room and to bed. (How do you spell, Grrrrrrr!)
About 15 minutes later, the two youngest, 4 and 6, came into the room and began crying and yelling as they explained the ground rules that had been laid out to them earlier.
“The older girls were not supposed to be in the guest bed,” they ranted and roared. “They were supposed to be on the futon.”
We settled the argument by my pulling the futon closer to the big bed and holding hands while they fell asleep.
By then, however, the eight-year-old had decided to move from a vertical to a horizontal position across her cousin Lucy and me. The three of us formed a perfect letter H.
I clung to the side of the bed holding hands with the little girls and braced myself for the fall that was sure to come from the spread out older one.
Finally, after an hour of complete and utter discomfort, I snuck out of the room and went to one of the single beds in the girls’ room.
My brain had finally slowed down, and I fell into a deep sleep for about 3 minutes when a short, blonde, six-year-old appeared beside me and said, “I can’t sleep in the other room.”
She jumped into my bed, and I held her as she went to sleep.
Not 20 minutes into her sleep, the four-year-old was standing looking at me and, without explanation, crawled onto the top of the bed where the pillow should be.
They both fell asleep for a few more minutes. Then, the six-year-old got up to go to the bathroom. She looked sternly at me and said, “Don’t let her take my spot.”
As soon as she left the room, the spot was taken.
When the bathroom break was competed, my kindergartner looked at me in disgust and headed angrily back to the futon.
About fifteen minutes later, the youngest troublemaker decided she’d prefer the company of her sister and cousins and jumped into the middle of the bed where they were sleeping.
Finally, at about 2 a.m. things started to settle down a little, but not for long because at 6 a.m., they all came running into the room screaming, “Happy Birthday, Poppa!”
Truthfully, it doesn’t get any better than that. Love my grandkids.
Nick Jacobs of Pittsburgh is a Principal with SunStone Management Resources and author of the blog healinghospitals.com.