One Year of Life

One year ago, when our first grandchild was born, we entered the Grandparents’ Club.

The first chore was selecting a grandparenty-sounding name. So far, I’ve come up with nothing clever or memorable to compare with Boop-pa, Opa, or Papaw, so I’m stuck with the traditional grandfatherly names: Grandfather, Grandpa, Grampa, Grandpappy, Gramps, Granddad, Granddaddy, and Grandpop. Maybe it would be a grand time to just give myself that name I’ve always dreamed of having. How cool would it be to have my grandchild call me Elvis, Dean, Jerome, Connery, Nash, Bronson, or Samson?

By now, I’ve fully entered the slow-motion process of baby-discovering-the-world, in which the baby carefully hand-selects tiny morsels of food, which are gingerly hoisted mouthward. There, the tongue fishes them from the tiny fist, or the finger foods are relentlessly smashed into cheeks, shoved up nostrils or implanted into ear canals.

The baby explores all body parts–whether belonging to the baby or a neighboring adult–eagerly investigating with the fascination of an early explorer setting foot in the New World.

There’s much to admire in a baby. When it comes, giggling arrives genuine and fresh as unspoiled spring water from an aquifer. A baby is still unable to imagine contrivance or fabrication to produce a desired manipulative effect.

Why do we feel so good when we’re with a baby? In their presence, we have entered a welcome Small World, where we can understand and mitigate the consequences of their apparently modest choices. We can offer solutions in this miniaturized world, something we are less confident to achieve in our own larger, intimidating arena.

Perhaps most importantly, we can make happy and fun faces to the baby, and we will not be judged for it. We are free to sacrifice appearances to give them happiness.

And the doing of that–our creation of a joyous countenance–in turn, that generates the very same emotions within ourselves. The intentional, joyous emotion we present to them with our face reflects back to us from the child, penetrating our own heart and giving us joy.

No wonder we enter our night of sleep exhausted and weary, yet with the rewards marked by creases carved deeply by smiles and laughter, further identifying our furrowed faces as–grandparents.