My father-in-law fed my daughters chocolate brownies at breakfast.
High fat, high sugar and caffeinated chocolate do not equal healthy breakfast in our house. There's no way in hell my four and six year old could wheedle their way into dessert after cereal if I was in the kitchen. Mia and Nora know I'd probably just snort at their request and offer them some fruit. But this morning I was sleeping while they ate. Randy's father had asked for breakfast duty the night before.
I had to laugh when the girls ran to me with the happy news.
"Grampa Bob gave us brownies for breakfast!"
"I feel like Bill Cosby," said my father in law. Randy and I laughed in recognition and started singing, "Dad is great! He gives us chocolate cake!"
My husband and I each chose to come to Chicago in our twenties, despite, well, truthfully, in a small part because of its distance from our families and their respective dramas. We also put off having kids until our mid-thirties. Knowing that we made these decisions has not prevented me from struggling with my emotions because we haven't had easily available grandparent help and support. I nearly wince when mom friends mention the grandmothers who allow them to have date nights with their husbands, who swoop in to hold the baby and save the day. I'm happy for my friends. But at times I consider starting a new career as a Pity Party party planner.
All that is forgotten today. Bob arrived from Florida two days ago. The girls are disappointed Grammy Lulu cannot make the trip, but cheer up when Grandpa tells them she wants the girls to pick out a new toy as her long-distance gift to them.
I am loving the spoiling. Bring it on. If I have to hear a little whining later on when I say "no" at the toy store or the bakery, so be it. I want this experience for my girls. I want them to build up wonderful memories of a sweet and kind man who gave them special surprises that hurt no one. I want the word "Grandpa" to sparkle in their hearts.
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