Last week, two of my grandchildren, Reynna (11) and Christopher (8) spent the night and the following day. They are full of energy, enthusiasm, and questions. Many, many questions.
Upon waking up that morning, Christopher asked, "Grandma, what's your favorite rodent?"
I have to admit being taken aback by this. Generally, I don't have a favorite rodent. In fact, I usually try to avoid rodents. Bleary-eyed, I looked at him and said, "I don't think I have a favorite rodent."
He then proceeded to give me a discourse upon the benefits and drawbacks of having a baby mouse as opposed to a grown-up mouse. When I had gathered my few wits about me, I agreed that both had appeal.
"Grandma," he asked wistfully, "do you think I could have a rodent?"
I had to think fast. Aside from the fact that his family has a cat, Joe-Mama, I knew my daughter didn't care for rodents--of any kind. "Well," I said, "I guess it would be up to your parents."
He nodded sadly.
This conversation made a delightful beginning to my day and reminded me that time spent with, children or grandchildren, is never wasted. It is time to be savored, the precious moments taken out and relived, the memories pressed upon the mind in the same way a faded corsage is pressed between the pages of a book.
So, for today, I am grateful for conversations with an eight-year-old grandson.