It's my weekend to work. I'm not working. I am staying home.
I got a text from one of my boys during my nap yesterday afternoon ... "Are you at work?" I told him I was at home and soon the phone rang. On the other end was a worried dad who told me his little boy was on his way to the hospital with terrible stomach pain. I read desperation in my son's voice. It wasn't long before we were blessed with two grandchildren and he was on his way to the hospital to meet his wife and son.
We fed the kids, watched "Storks" with them, fixed up some beds, read a few stories, said a prayer, and tucked them in for the night. I called in sick to work this morning. Grandchildren take precedence over my friend in the Memory Care Unit, and besides I am fighting this nasty head cold that has been knocking everyone off the map. I don't like to give up my hours, but I had two good reasons to stay home and so I did.
This morning Grandpa made buckwheat pancakes and, of course, the toys came out. There was mac and cheese for lunch and a movie or two on the television. This is what being a grandparent is all about. Just being there.
The child has had surgery and is recovering. Mom and Dad are relieved, and so are we.