Category: Grandpa’s Sweeties

The little guy seems more proud than irritated.

First posted here 10 (10!) years ago today.

First posted here nine years ago today.

Mack, official oldest grandchild of NewMexiKen, was nervous. According to his mother, it was “pajama day” at Little Lambs pre-school. That meant that all the five-year-olds were supposed to wear a favorite pair of pajamas to school. In his pajamas in the car on the way however, it felt a little uncertain.

To alleviate the uncertainty — which by then had started to settle into her own mind — his mom began to suggest other “clothing days” there might be. In the joking that followed, Mack suggested — as 5-year-old boys will — “underpants day.”

His mother assured him there would be no day when the kids just wore underpants to class — at least not until college.

Mack, the oldest of The Sweeties, is 14 today.

This story from Jill first published here 10 years ago today.

[Three-year-old] Mack and I picked out some lovely ripe cherries at the market today. We’re going to chop them up and put them in homemade ice cream.

At lunch I diced some of them and gave them to [8-month-old] Aidan.

He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth. Immediately, his eyes shot to me with an expression that perfectly conveyed two thoughts:

“My God, but I do love you, woman.”

and

“Exactly what else have you been keeping from me?”

If 8-year-old Mack does well in this morning’s 5K, perhaps it’s because he had some Mephistophelean help.

Or has his mother said, “Whoever assigned the bib numbers for this race obviously knows Mack.”

[First posted April 26, 2009.]

Sweetie Reidie is 8 today. Below his NMK birth announcement.

Grandpa has a brand new Sweetie today — Reid Fisher, third son of Jill and Byron. Reid and Fisher are both fifth generation family names.

The little guy was two weeks early, but weighed in at 7 pounds 3 ounces, and is 19 inches long. He and his mother are both doing fine.

Photo taken about three hours after Reid’s birth.

Each of the six of Grandpa’s Sweeties have, oddly enough, been born on days of the month that are prime numbers: 7, 13, 13, 19, 23 and 31. Thought you’d want to know.

Of course, born since is grandchild seven, Sweetie Sam, now 3, born on an unprime 25.

And a newer photo of Reid, taken one week ago.

The oldest of The Sweeties is now a teenager. It ought to be a national holiday.

That’s him in the middle below, taken last month with his brothers.

My daughter Emily is on a business trip. My granddaughter Kiley misses her mom.

My Mommy

She is the star to my tree
The snow to my plow
I try singing without her
But I don’t know how
She’s part of my duet
We’re jelly and jam
If I am the turkey,
She is the ham
I know my rhyming
is pretty bad
But I hope this last line
Makes you glad:
Love left with you
And love will come back with you
And love will wait here for you
All the hours in between.

By my Granddaughter Kiley, 11.

Every girl, if I’m not mistaken, wants to feel pretty. Maybe all the time. Maybe just once in a while. Maybe hardly ever. But our appearances matter to us. We want to impress people. We want to look cute, or at least clean. So next time you see a girl in a pretty outfit, look closer. If she’s not smiling, she’s not confident. If she’s not smiling, make her smile.

By my granddaughter Kiley.

I say what I say
I say what I say
But somehow
it never comes out that way
I do what I do
I do what I can
But somehow
There’s always a flaw in my plan
I type what I type
I type what I want
But somehow
It ends in a different font
I am who I am
I am the best I can be
At least that part works
And shows beautiful me.

My not quite 11-year-old granddaughter Kiley wrote this for her blog.

Letting go is hard. Tomorrow is our community garage sale, and I finally have to say goodbye to my old baby dolls. I don’t really care about the dolls. Nor about the old VHS tapes, or even the stuffed animals. It’s the memories buried inside those things I want. The memories that make me want to turn back the clock. Back when I was little. Little enough to fit in the stroller we’re selling.

Four years ago then 8-year-old Mack appeared to have some Mephistophelean help in his 5K.

Or has his mother said, “Whoever assigned the bib numbers for this race obviously knows Mack.”

… makes you feel one-tenth as good as it does me, you’ll have a great day, too.

Jill reports on three-year-old Reidie:

Reid just woke up. He has a cold and he’s also having a hard time adjusting to the new schedule — he naps, and then he can’t go to sleep at night, and then he gets up late, and then he won’t nap and he’s exhausted by 7:00…

Anyway, he just woke up and I asked him (as I always do), “What did you dream about?”

“Darth Vader was chasing me.”

“Oh no! Were you scared?”

“No.”

“Really? I would have been scared.”

“Grandpa was holding my hand.”

[Reposted from this date in 2009.]

NewMexiKen had a story the other day about Reid wanting to play catcher.

Well, he got to catch. I thought you’d like a photo.

It’s Fall sports season in Virginia and we have four boy Sweeties playing baseball and one girl Sweetie in soccer. Jill reports on 6-year-old Reid:

Reid has been petitioning his baseball coach for a chance to play catcher and he finally got his shot tonight. We had to buy him a cup first. (Oh, he is tickled pink by that cup.)

Anyway, he put on all the gear and he could barely stand up. He tried to catch about 20 pitches from the machine and every single pitch knocked him over completely backwards — including one that hit him plum in the face.

I think it’s the weight of the equipment that is tipping him over, more than anything else.

It was pretty awesome.

First day of school yesterday and Jill reports on Mack and Aidan.

Going through Mack’s papers and one of his teachers had them do a handout about themselves and their hobbies and what they like/don’t like about school, what they like in teachers, etc.

One question is, “If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?”

Mack said he would buy a business so he could earn a bunch more millions of dollars.

Which is a good answer.

It also made me think of what Aidan told me earlier — his teacher asked them all what they would do with a thousand dollars (apparently, the rate of return on imaginary investments greatly increases between third and sixth grades).

Aidan said he would buy a hot tub.

First posted here six years ago today:

Mack, official oldest grandchild of NewMexiKen, watched much of the Rose Bowl with his mother Wednesday night. Here’s the story as told by his mother, Jill:

The honorary marshal came onto the field, before the game, to flip the coin. I saw that it was Sandra Day O’Connor.

I said, “Oh, Mack, that is one of my heroes.”

“Why?”

I referenced conversations we’ve had in the past, “You know how we’ve talked about how, for thousands of years, men got to be in charge of everything and women didn’t get to do lots of things?” (Mack has a fairly solid background knowledge in this stuff, at least for a five-year-old boy.)

“Yes, like how they couldn’t vote or have a house or do lots of jobs?”

“Right. Well one job they didn’t get to do was be a judge. A judge gets to decide the laws for all the people to follow. It’s a really important job. Well, that lady was the first woman who got to be a judge. So she is one of Mommy’s heroes.” (Not strictly accurate, I know.)

Mack looked at me for a minute, then said, “Then she is one of my heroes, too.”

My heart melted. I put my arms out for a hug, so proud of my brilliant, sensitive child.

He continued, “Yes. Also Batman.”