Search

Type your search keyword, and press enter

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.

image_print

Action drawings

December 7, 2014 Uncategorized 0 Comments

Looking at a child’s scribbles is sometimes like looking at a 2-dimensional snapshot of a 4th-dimensional scene recorded over a span of time. In many cases, you aren’t seeing a static image but an entire story, from start to finish, in one frame. Gives you a different perspective on a child’s drawings if you think of it this way.

I was witness to the birth of these as the artist narrated what was going on…

The upper left-corner image is his family members going for a walk and then going into the family race car for a drive (every family has a family race car, right?)

The upper right corner image is a motorcycle going around a race track with increasing speed.

The bottom image is a man who is being chased by lava and isn’t very happy about it because it eventually catches up to him and gets him.

10733779_10152398514031249_3014415185134865869_o[1]

Weapons of mad distraction

October 16, 2014 Uncategorized 0 Comments

I’m filling up the truck at a local shop and am reminded of an encounter with the attendant at the register.

My grandson and I had gone in to get snacks and drink and of course the boy zeroes in on the bags of sweets…

“Chocolate. I want chocolate, pleeeeez”, sweetly he says as he points to the treasure assortment right at toddler arm level.

“No, not now. We’re here for other snacks. Chocolate is too messy on a hot day and you just got that clean shirt on. ”

“Pleeeeze” ☺ Again the cuteness.

The attendant, trying to be helpful: “We don’ sell chocolate. No chocolate here. No can get”

The boy and I look at the lunkhead with probably the same expressions on our faces…

The boy: “But. This. Chocolate.”

Attendant: “No. not chocolate”

And suddenly I can see how chocolate and WMD can become the same thing, in the right situation…

Gwumpas jumpin onna truck

October 12, 2014 Uncategorized 0 Comments

Last grand-story for today, I promise

 

We were having a typical discussion yesterday while washing the truck in the driveway. I casually mentioned I was going to climb on top of the truck and would jump off, and was met with instant concern:

He: “NO GWUMPA no climbing onna truck. You fall down and and and bonk yer head.”

Me: “…and then momma calls the doctor…?”

He: “YAH and momma call the doctor and and the doctor, the doctor said..”

Me (singing triumphantly, having set up the joke): “…no more monkeys jump…”

He: “NO NO GWUMPA doctor said, ‘No more gwumpas jumping onna twuck'”