One of my good friends is a doting grandfather. His grandson is a seven year old elementary school student who adores hanging out with 'Grandad". I caught up with Jake yesterday afternoon and asked how Matthew was doing.
"Poor kid," Jake's voice softened with the telling. "He's readjusting to having to get up so early again."
I thought of my grandfather who melted into the same sort of sweetness whenever he could hang out with any of his four grandchildren.The man was a storehouse of candy treats, and a sure master of tricks we always seemed to be in need of learning. Soaring high to the sky on the tree swings he had built for us, performing a cartwheel with the smoothness of a gymnast, dancing the jitterbug with style--'Grandpa' knew it all, and loved to teach us what we were eager to learn.
So Jake tells me how sleepy Matthew is everyday having to meeting his eight o'clock class bell.
"High school kids can handle that schedule." he shakes his head emphasizing unbelief that the nonsense was also imposed on younger children. "Does anyone other than me think that it's not a good thing?"
Now Jake and I once met the same first class bell when we were Matthew's age. I take a seat in the chaise lounge in my friend's backyard and hope to let him know that I understand his concern.
"It's crazy. It jolts them out of bed before they are ready to be these little adults," I say. "Wonder if that's why we all became a little resistant to school along the way?"
He knows I am trying to console and knows that Matthew will adjust. " It's just a grandpa's love, I know."
"Yes," I say thinking of my Grandpa. "That's what grandpas do.