Sunday, 22 May 2011

Love and Donuts


I would like it to be known that I love my grandson more than anything on this planet.

I think that I can honestly say that he is number one above my own kids. I have too much history with them to love them unconditionally. Too many frayed edges if you know what I mean. There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for them; it’s just that I would grumble while I was doing it.

I have had a long standing policy of never eating anything that a child has touched. It began when my kids were babies and Louise would feed them pablum and the odd time eat the left overs or things on the high chair that they had touched. Disgusting! Sometimes when the kids were older they would help with a cake or decorating a gingerbread house. I kept my policy and would avoid the parts they had worked on. In my mind it is much the same a when a kid offers you a mud pie that they had just made. You pretend to like it but the chance of it touching your lips is pretty remote.

Now, this policy has remained in effect throughout the years. When I would go to a scout camp and the leaders would get the kids to make the meal in order to build character or some such rot, I would be expected to eat that food. I always found an alternative that hadn’t been touched by the kids. I saw those kids earlier catching frogs, climbing trees and in one instance poking a dead bird. Not going to happen!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not a germophobe, I have been known to pick an earwig out of my thermos and drink it down. If food hits the floor I am from the school of don’t ask, don’t tell, just brush it off and enjoy. There is just something about kids and food that isn’t right. I just know that if Moses had more space on the tablets there would have been a Thou Shalt Not Allow Kids To Touch Food!

Now that my kids are in their thirties and are good cooks and know a lot more about food than I do, it is with a reluctant heart that I go to their places and eat a meal. I know the food is made with love and goodwill but you never can tell. It is sort of like going to another land and eating the local delicacies. Why would you if you didn’t have to?

So, let’s get back to my grandson. We had a sleep over last night, and after breakfast followed by a few cartoons we decided to go out and play in a park. We had a good time, Ewan probably more than Louise and I. I didn’t get injured, which used to happen quite often when I would show the kids how to have fun. So, after the park we went to Tim’s to get something sweet and refreshing. Ewan chose a green tea iced tea and a chocolate dipped donut. Louise had an iced tea with a tea biscuit and I had a dutchie with a coffee. Everything was going well until Ewan had enough of his donut. There wasn’t much left, it had been picked, poked, pushed, prodded and I am pretty sure licked.

This is when Louise said “Why don’t you give the rest to Papa?” There are times when I wish daggers would really shoot out of your eyes. What the heck was she thinking? Then I saw the ear to ear grin. Evil woman! Ewan said” Here Papa” and pushed the plate in front of me. What could I do? I thanked him for being so generous and ate the mashed and mangled, soggy piece of donut, smiled and said “Mmmmmm that is good!”

Does anyone know if a sense of humour a valid reason for divorce?

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