About Grandpa Tales

Grandpa Tales is a collection of adventures and reflections from a Grandpa’s perspective.

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About Grandpa Tales

Grandpa Tales is a collection of adventures and reflections from a Grandpa’s perspective.

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Direct Hit

By on January 17, 2017 in Uncategorized with 4 Comments

My youngest son and his wife moved into their new home this weekend. We went to visit and help out.

We had a simple and straight forward job. Or so I thought. Until we had to do it. Our job was watching the girls: Paige is almost three and Lila is one.

You would think this would be easy. Straight forward. No big deal. Not so.

My job was to watch Lila in the living room while Edie took Paige to the park. The park was the playset in their backyard.

I, of course, gloated. Edie was out in the cold and I was in the comfort of a warm house. I sat on the rug in the living room encouraging Lila, who just started to walk, to knock me over.

She would run into me, I would fall on my back, make some weird sound that had Rob and his Hannah stop what they were doing to see if I was OK. Lila and I would laugh. “This is pretty easy stuff”, I said to myself.

I decided to up the game. As Lila ran into me, I grabbed her, fell on my back, lifted her into the air and over me, brought her back and put her on the ground. She smiled and laughed as only a happy one-year-old can.

Then the unexpected happened (unexpected to a naïve grandpa that is). What happed next felt like everything was moving in slow motion. You know, the way they slow the action in a comedy when something that shouldn’t be happening is happening.

As I moved her past my face (she was at least two feet away from me – I have long arms), there is was: a stringy, sticky, gooey, blob of drool, slowly leaving her mouth and meandering toward my face. It looked like something out of the movie, The Blob. It was getting longer, it never left her mouth, it only got longer and longer and longer.

I wanted to cry out, “Noooooooo”, but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed with fear. Immobilized. Helpless. I tried to move her to the side. But the drool only went on a 45-degree angle. The lead drool part homed in on my face like a heat seeking missile.

Then it happened. Splat. Direct hit; right on my chin. She hit the target. Perfect aim. As it landed, it started to slide down the side of my chin, then under my chin making its way to my neck. Yuck.

I was terrified. What if Rob or Hannah came over and saw I had drool dripping down my face. What would they think? Would they think it was mine? Would they be concerned that this drooling grandpa wasn’t fit to watch Lila?

I put her down, wiped the drool from my chin and neck, and said, “Hey Lila, how about we play another game.”

She can’t talk yet, but I could see in her eyes her sense of triumph. She had beat me at the drool attack game.

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