The baby is scheduled for a c-section, so Grandpa will be leaving on Tuesday morning to take care of the new big brother until Sunday, when I take over the duties. How grateful I am for Tony who's willing to represent a new generation of tender men who babysit when needed. It used to be, and still is, the grandma's job, though there've always been those stereotype breaking men willing to carry the load of children and grandchildren rearing.
When my daughters and I think of him going alone and having the sole responsibility of caring for a head strong three year old who has taken to kleptomania recently, we all laugh and applaud. Our love grows for this husband, this father, this super Dad, super man.
It may be that he has ulterior motives. You see, this little grandchild has a mop of curls. His mom knows they won't last forever; the blond is turning gold, the curls are loosening. We too love his curls--except he looks like a "mad" scientist (no biggy-they run in our family), he is sometimes mistaken for a female; hair is always in his eyes, so much that he's asked for clips, but when he sees his hair pony-tailed, he isn't happy.
The final straw came when his mother wrote Grandpa instructions to gel his hair every morning so it stays out of his eyes. If the little guy does it, it will most likely still be a nuisance, so Grandpa needs to do it right.
Grandpa's solution was to get the little guy a haircut while in charge. His mother responded that he doesn't want a haircut. When Grandpa responded that he could be bribed with a donut, she came clean: she likes his long hair. As if we didn't know already.
She knew a donut would be his Delilah.
Maybe a new Lego set, would give him the impetus to convince his mother. Or maybe we are working on the wrong person. Maybe she's the one we need to bribe...