This , when I heard it , seemed startlingly unlikely since he'd much rather stay inside and explain mediaeval history to you than go outside but his parents took him at his word and Sunday saw him looking long and lanky on a skateboard ... in a helmet and some shin pads his mother had unearthed from somewhere . His Alexander Technique aunt spent the afternoon helping him to find his balance , his mother promised to get him proper knee-pads to replace the improvised shin pads before next weekend and he was off ...
And I can clearly hear his two year-old voice , snuffly with a cold , telling us a joke about a dinosaurus and dissolving into giggles long before the punchline ...
7 comments:
And, the flower is beautiful, but I don't know what it is.
Children do not stop having birthdays; only adults quit. That's how you know the kids have really grown up.
I don't know either , I found it growing between two paving stones in the street outside . In a jam jar with a bit of water , it opens one new tiny pink flower every morning to replace the one than opened the day before .
They grow up so fast, don't they?
We have a cluster of birthdays in July (our youngest was born on his big sister's birthday, same week as my husband's), and I don't mind, but sometimes wonder if they do. . . .Our g'daughter will be nine this year, and has been known to do a bit of skateboarding, but somehow your description of your grandson makes me see how old she's somehow become. . . It's astonishing, isn't it, how quickly it happens the second time 'round. . . . (I know, cliché, but can't be helped)
Scary how fast grandchildren grow, making us more aware each passing year of our own mortality. Have you noticed, when your own birthday comes around, how impossible it seems since your last one feels like it happened just last week?
Grandchildren are such a joy. I enjoyed your loving description of the grandson.
Don't they just grow so quickly? Our eldest grandson is 6 next month and the youngest will be 1 in August. And it all seems like yesterday.
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