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SALT LAKE CITY — Grandpas are missing the mechanism — the little doohickey-thing that tells most people not to say or do things that they probably shouldn’t say or do. It has gone the way of the buffalo.
The Edmund Fitzgerald, dot matrix printers, grandpa’s social skills, Republicans — all missing.
I read once where a grandpa sued his children for visitation rights to access his grandchildren. I remember thinking that such action was outrageous … silly … a waste of tax dollars and a clog in the judicial system. I don’t even have to see this man to know that said grandpa was missing the mechanism as well.
When my grandson, Buggy, was born, I heard a little “ping” in my brain. It was the wing-wangler switch in my head — having been on overload to begin with — actually giving up the ghost. No longer would I have a filter to discourage me from saying things like “you’ll never be the man your mother is” or “please tell me your not going to home-school your kids.”
So here’s a quick news bulletin. I raised you, daughter. I can probably handle babysitting your kids. I’ll make you a deal. If you quit giving me helpful hints on how to treat children, I will stop saying “I told you so.”
Grandpa’s inalienables … and a few rants
There are certain rights I should have as a grandpa. I call them grandpa's rights. (I am too old for clever titles.)
- I am happy to be your go-to babysitter, but I will not be filling out any forms for a background check; nor will I be sitting through the PowerPoint presentation you emailed me, titled, “A whole new day of diapers.”
- You don’t need to tell me how to feed the kid or burp him — I understand the theories involved. Don’t hand me a red shirt and expect me to use it for anything other than wiping up puke. Grandpas don’t do red. It’s a BYU thing.
- If I want to sing him ABBA songs to get him to sleep, I’m gonna sing ABBA songs. I may even give Barry Manilow a try:Oh baby, Well you came and you gave without taking, But I sent you away, Oh baby …
- If Mozart is the order of the day, Mozart will scream from the ridiculously oversized boom box in the basement. It is your inheritance.
- Don’t bother telling me what TV shows baby likes. If I have anything to do with it, he won’t see a TV at grandpa’s house until he is old enough to watch the walking zombie show. Kids need to know about zombies.
- I reserve the right to put the baby in a dry bathtub to play while grandpa reads a book on the bathroom floor.
- I feel strongly that I should have the right to trim child’s locks, but Grandma feels differently — differently enough that I might not get supper for a month. So when I do cut the boy's hair, I will lie and create a really good story about a sticky sucker that I promise you will believe.
- I get to say things like “bath time for banana bread” in a squeaky voice, and you do not get to make snarky comments.
Also, just FYI: If you give me the baby and tell me you need a good nap, don’t post on Facebook from Wendover. I am not your … oh, never mind. I’m just happy for the excuse to have the baby for whatever time I can. Stay out of trouble, and keep a $20 in your shoe just in case.
I’m sure it won’t help to say that the reason why we grandpas are such dopes who say what’s on our mind is that we are starting to see that time is short for us. These kids own us completely.
If our lack of the mechanism offends, it is not because we think you are completely incapable of … I mean, it’s because we love you. Now, hand that grandkid over.
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*Davison Cheney writes "The Prodigal Dad" series every week on ksl.com. Please do not call Davison's wife to offer her a deal on a gun. Do check out his other writings at davisoncheneymegadad.blogspot.com.**
