The truth is I was going to write about something else other than my not-quite-a-week-old baby today. Not that I had anything specific in mind, but I was thinking maybe a week straight was too much.
Then two things happened. The first is my mother, who is in town to help us out for a few weeks, basically kicked my wife and I out of the house. We were thinking about all going out somewhere, but with rain threatening and our son being worn out from a day in the park, primarily with my mom by the way, she told us it made more sense for just the two of us to go and enjoy a dinner together. She literally put money in my hand to take my wife to dinner.
And the meal was nice. It was our first dinner alone in a long while, although we have managed a few lunch dates together.
When we got home we were greeted by an amazing sight. My mom setting on the floor, cradling our daughter in one arm, holding a picture book in the other, my son right up against her, both children spellbound as she read the story. When she reached the end of a page, she’d have my son dutifully turn the page.
I’ve spent most of my life learning how to be a parent by watching my mom. If I am half as good as she is, I’d still be doing a great job. And now she is showing me how to be an amazing grandparent as well.
(To top things off, we later found out she managed to wash a our dishes from earlier in the day as well.)
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