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About the Author

Gwumpa Stories

I'm a gwumpa. A grandfather, more precisely, but to those who matter to these stories, I'm simply Gwumpa. Those are the ones who sing with me when no one else is around to hear my squawking. The ones who think that a dusty old model car is a trophy for winning a racing event, even when told the car was actually a gift from someone long ago. The ones who look at their mom and dad and then at me, and play, "spot the differences" in their heads. The ones who carry on my parents' legacy. I'm very aware of how precious are the moments of clarity the little ones bring to us - if we are tuned in enough to listen to what we are hearing. That's why this site exists... to help me remember this as my life force ebbs and wanes. Perchance to bring a smile to your face. Maybe you have the honour of recognising these these moments, too, with your own children and little grandbitties. If so, you are blessed indeed. Peace and awareness to you , always.

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Too early in the morning for behaviour analysis

The grandboy’s taken the ‘why” question out into psychology realm now.

Grandboy: “GWUMPA gwumpa i’m thirsty gwumpa I’m thirsty.  May I have some water please?”

Me: “Ok sure [I hold two cups out] which one would you like, the red cup or the blue cup?”

Grandboy: “The RED one gwumpa, red one please.”

Me [filling up the red cup]: “Ok here’s water in the red cup.”

Grandboy: “Why?”

Me [confused]: “Why what?  Why am I pouring water or why did you pick the red cup or why did you want water?”

Grandboy: “Why i can choose the RED cup, gwumpa?  Why red?”

Me: “O I don’t know.  You chose it.  Why did you choose the red one?”

Grandboy: “I’ll have to think about that.”

Costs money, Gwumpa, costs money…!

I accidentally made the grandboy cry one day while teaching him about money.

He understands about the concept of money.  You need it to do certain things but not for others.  He knows this personally because he plays “free” games on a tablet and knows some areas or items are locked and can only be unlocked if you pay money for them.  We don’t pay for upgrades, so for him, these are unattainable.  And that’s ok.

He also knows that certain “real-life” activities cost money while others don’t.  Opening the hallway door doesn’t cost money.  Opening the bedroom door doesn’t cost money.  Opening the bathroom door doesn’t cost money. Opening the refrigerator, outside or closet doors DOES cost money (the closet lights come on when you open the doors).

We were doing some cleaning one day and he was “helping” by adding soap to the water in the bucket.  He plopped too much soap in the water and I corrected him by saying we needed to use less, because the water would be too soapy and it would take more water to clean off the items than needed now.  He replied, “yah… and costs money too…”

I laughed and said, yes, it costs money too.

“So Gwumpa,” he pondered, “Water costs money.  Soap costs money.  Bucket doesn’t cost money?”

“Yes, bucket costs money.  I had to pay for the bucket once, but not every time I use it now.”

“Ooooh.” [thinking some more, then seemingly distracted as the dog came sniffing round to see what food the boy might have dropped in the kitchen]. “Puppy doesn’t cost money!”

“Haha,” I laughed, “O yep puppy costs money.  He needs doctor visits and food and stuff.”

“Oh.”  [thinking] “People don’t cost money.”

“Well…” [me, trying to think of how to phrase this correctly] “yes, people cost money too for the same reasons.  I need to pay for things to keep us alive and happy.”

“I cost money, gwumpa?”

I chuckle, “Yep, you cost money too.”

Then comes the sadface and the hiccup of a little cry. “Gwumpa I don’t want to cost money!”

I realise then that he’s thinking of his games and the lessons we’ve had about saving expenses.  I don’t freak about expenses but he knows they are something to avoid.

“Honey,” I give him a hug.

“It’s ok for you to cost money.  I love you.  We save money on some things so we can spend more on you and me and your momma.  You are more important to me than the other stuff.”

“Ok gwumpa.” [dries his eyes then looks at the bucket] “Don’t put too much soap in the water, gwumpa, we need to save some for later, ok?”


Photo credit – Dave Ramsey

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Please don’t clean this

I’m not a clean freak.  Really.

But I do like things tidy.

Way back when, a lifetime ago (when things were more stressful), I was the one who did the deep-cleaning (and the light cleaning as well) in the household.  Vac, mop, walls, etc.

Some of that was personal preference, some a reaction to the living situation.

Things are better now so I’m more relaxed.  Having had a decade of living with boxes of items all round, and in various locales tends to bring perspective into what’s important.

But some things I’m still a stickler about.  Walls, carpet, and floorboards, for one.

When the grandboy and his momma needed a safe haven to run to, there was no hesitation.  But I very quickly remembered how exciting life is when you’ve a pint-sized walking ball of energy  mixed with food and mud and sometimes the occasional sniffly, vomit-y mess that comes with the package.

Momma’s good about making sure things are kept to a standards minimum.  But I do find I scrub the walls a little more often than I used to.

Except for one spot.

This is is my reminder of how blessed we grandparents are and how I in particular am blessed to have good relationships with my kids – all of them, thankfully.

I was cleaning up one day, about 2½ years ago, when I came upon this patch of mud spread across the doorjamb.  The grandboy had been playing outside with momma in the dirt and used the doorjamb to steady his step up to the next part of the landing.

It occurred to me right then how strong a message this little bit of mess held for me.

The two of them had only been living here for a couple of months.  My daughter had trusted me to help out in a bad situation.  Her boy had no clue what was going on – he barely knew how to walk up a single step without help.  At that moment in time, I hadn’t a clue how long my visitors would be staying with me, but already I knew things would be forever changed no matter how long they stayed.

This is a smeary mess.  I know that.  But it’s also a symbol of trust and respect between myself and family, odd as it sounds.  I’ve actually protected it with a clear coat of gloss – now that the littleun is helping to clean, he may accidentally wipe off this reminder.  I love irony but not that much!

 

This little patch of dirt will be gone at some point in time.  Maybe after I’m gone and buried.  But until then, this stays as a precious work of love and art.

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Rainy day, cleaning day. Then cleaning day again

The temperature dropped recently here, and it’s been pouring buckets of water.  Fortunately we had a reprieve and it’s nice enough to leave the back door open.  Let’s check our math, shall we?  rain+dirt+stompyboy =

Yes! We’re cleaning up mud inside.  How mud got on the toilet seat I’ll not ask, but I will insist he cleans up his adventure results.

And after he cleans, it’s time for me to clean again, since his cleaning consists of mainly spraying water from his cleaning bottle on everything and then only sometimes wiping it off 😛

Me too

Grandboy said he liked to drink water.

“Me too!” I said.  He laughed.

“You are a BABY? Why you a BABY, GWUMPA?”

I looked confused so he held up two fingers.

“YOU are TWO, gwumpa.  I’m FOUR (four tiny fingers poked up). Hee hee”

Let the dad jokes begin, already 😀

We built this city on block & roll

 

 

The grandboy and I are building a city before bedtime.

“Why you can build this?” he asks as we build structures.

I ponder the question.  Why indeed?  We build cities to house our people, to show how grand we are, to leave something behind that shows we were here once and made a difference.

I start to answer, but slowly, as I can’t think of a way to share this with him in a way he can understand.  But I’m cut off.

“O gwumpa I know! You can build this because you got the blocks!”

Ah the age-old reason.  Because it’s there.

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Oh and here’s the video you’ll be thinking of for a while after reading this post:

[youtube https://youtu.be/K1b8AhIsSYQ]

Kids these days

I’m reading to the grandboy before his nap.

He picks up a toy mobile phone and starts talking: “Ok hold on; I’m reading a story with gwumpa, I’ll call you back later.”

I suppress a giggle and continue to read.  He starts pushing buttons on the phone.

“Hey,” I stop, “are you listening to the story or playing?!?”

“GWUMPA”, comes the reply, “I’m TEXTING my MOM”

Consumer say “No”

The grandboy’s started a game whereby he asks us for a choice (“which one do you want, the green one or the big one?”) and after we choose, he pulls this answer out: “Sorry, it’s broken (out of power, someone else is using it, etc)

This means we are expected to choose another one. And another one. And…

Rather than encourage this “computer say ‘no'” mentality I turn this around to give him ownership of the issue.

“I’d like the one I chose.”

“But gwumpa it’s bwoken…”

“I know, you said that. But you also offered it. How are you going to fix it?”

The reports of broken equipment have been slowing down and productivity is up. Huh.