“Why do old people have hair growing in their nose and their ears” my young grandson asked as we sat together on the front seat of the bus on our way back to Dublin. As I struggled to find a satisfactory answer to this conundrum I was assailed by further interesting questions such as why does your hair stand on end when you get up in the morning, why do you have so much hair on your knuckles and so little on your head and my most appreciated observation, why do you have all those lines across your forehead? While I became steadily perplexed in endeavouring to find suitable answers without causing an outburst of merriment among the other attentive bus passengers, my ever considerate grandson leaned towards me and quietly assured me that I need not worry as I could get Botox treatment for my furrowed brow. He even produced a sketch next day to illustrate the range of facial problems that I had to contend with. Vanity thy name is definitely Youth!
My grandson had elected to spend one of his Easter holiday weeks with my wife and me in Galway. Of course he was a welcome and indeed treasured guest. During the week we explored many areas of Connemara together and even climbed Mamean Mountain without difficulty except to pause for him to collect a number of both large and small stones to bring back to his Mum in Dublin. At home he spent time playing games on the computer and avidly watched espn classic soccer matches on TV while filling in his Match Attax cards in his album. However, his favourite past time which was announced with a fanfare almost every hour was a challenge to me to beat him at soccer in the garden. Thus I invariably lumbered around the tarmac area trying vainly with waving hands and heavy feet to try and restrict the little lithe footballer to a reasonable score in matches he won with ease. He proclaimed loudly that he was a Barcelona fan and that Messi was his idol and set out to show me that the magic swagger associated with that footballing genius were not confined to the Nou Camp. He succeeded with great style and was soon running rings around me and leaving me complaining about stretched sinews, sore limbs and pulled muscles! Thus my days of imagined footballing process were shown to be as real as the full shock of hair I still considered to be on my head.
My wife and I were entertained my our little visitor’s innocent sense of fun and wonderful joy of life all week and indeed our house had a most welcome shot of social energy which put the family focus back with a ‘jolt’ in our home. When he left with me for Dublin we were very sad to see him go but I was greatly encouraged by the social spectacle which I witnessed the day after his arrival home. His mother and father had arranged an Easter treasure hunt and our little visitor and his younger brother were dressed as Easter bunnies along with their parents who had Paper Mache ears, tassel tails and painted faces as they attempted to retrieve various eggs from hidden locations with the aid of a hand painted map. To some serious people this whole enterprise would seem a little unwise if not entirely mad but to me it represented the wonderful imaginative cultivation of youthful spirit. Thus, when I viewed on the following days, the many funny and outlandish photo memories of the days events I could not but be proud of parents and children alike. A chip of the old block, I fondly hope!
Note: The names of my grandsons and their parents have been omitted from this blog to protect their privacy.
The Easter Bunny statue is from YESFLOWERS Galway shop window!
All comments and musings welcome!
