Sunday mornings are sweet when our grandson stays over the night before. He wakes up very early some mornings, before the early birds start to sing outside in the park, but we don’t mind.
He likes to help with making his breakfast and Grandpa is the one who’s in charge of that fun project. They crack eggs together and scramble them up, dump in a bit of grated cheese then pour the mixture into a hot frying pan. Great fun.
This little guy who is not quite two and a half can certainly wear out a mature couple like my husband and I and by the time Devon is still running on his tank filled with energy, we’re ready for quiet time and a bit of a nap way before he’s even thinking about slowing down. Eventually things balance out and mom and dad come to get him and all is right with the world.
But one of the most precious times is when grandpa reads to Devon in bed. A loving and grand time with first a book or two and then it’s tickling time. And the laughter that runs through the house heals all hurts and mishaps of the week. The giggles and roars that come from them are magical and they come back from their time together satieted with pleasure.
