Words

I have words tripping all over themselves in my head. I have journeyed a bit through blog land and I have read other's words. I want to share my words with them. I want to tell all those that have shared their words with me how much it has meant to me. I have memories that are screaming to be put in words. AND I have words for my grandson; the grandson that is working on independence without parental involvement! Many grandparents are struck wordless by the sight of a beloved grandchild. I've been struck wordless alright, but not by the beauty of the beast. The grandson in question went walking with friends. That's cool (his vernacular)! Friends are good. Everybody should walk with their friends once in a while. Now I know that HIS walking with friends is mostly girl hoping; hoping they'll run into some girls that will wish they could walk with them. His father knows that they aren't doing anything that he didn't do when he was 14. Discovering that the world is full of girls and that girls are discovering that the world is full of boys is about right for this age, but and this is a big 'BUT', his father, my son, bought him a cell phone. Mostly the cell phone is used for the father to say "are you where you said that you were going to be?, are you doing what you said you were going to do?, you ARE going to be home when I said that you are going to be home!"; the normal stuff that fathers of independence yearning youths say on cell phones. That's 'cool'. The father is playing his part like he should. Normally the grandson plays his part according to the rules too. He answers the cell phone, his fathers questions, and pretends to be over joyed that his father thought enough of him to call him on his new cell phone. But things went amiss! My son called the new cell phone, the new cell phone rang, and horror of horror's it rang and rang and rang. My grandson (this is his explanation to his father; which, by the way, didn't fly in the face of parental indignation) had put the phone on vibrate and he didn't feel the vibration because the phone was in the lower pocket of his walking shorts and he and his friends were talking and laughing and "you know how it is dad", we were just hanging around and blah, blah, blah. My son replied that he knew how it was all right. He wasn't born yesterday. He once was a 14 year old boy fighting for independence without parental involvement, blah, blah, blah. The son then told the grandson that he was restricted for 3 days. Count them 3!, THREE!, III!, days. 3 DAYS OF RESTRICTION. My grandson accepted this restriction with a benign resignation. My son accepted this restriction with a parental huff of justification. I accepted this restriction with a tantrum of tears and yelling, "Not fair!, not fair!. Three (3) whole days! That's not fair!"

For 3 days MY words will be tumbling around inside this head of mine while my grandson fulfills his father's commandment by sweetly sitting at my computer talking to the friends that he isn't allowed to go walking around with for 3 days. Now is that fair! The son thinks so. The grandson thinks so. The grandmother thinks the punishment is far to harsh. 3 whole days!!!!!!