Grandkids?

I never nagged my children to have children. I told friends it didn’t matter, that there was no need for my genes to be passed on — in the grand scheme of things, I felt it didn’t matter and I meant it. Not for the first time — I was mistaken.

I was smitten

There is something about being a grandparent. How can I explain it? It’s like a magical chain that pulls you to a brand new baby born to your very own children. I looked at that little bundle and was smitten. That’s all it took. Who would’ve thunk it?

My lucky grandson is well-loved. He is also being raised well by his parents, who are doing a far better job than I ever did — which is an additional plus.

However, one of the unexpected pleasures I’ve derived is

Rafi could sure hit that baseball

revisiting the memories of raising his dad, who was a smiling little one who rapidly grew into the kid who could hit that baseball all the way to Century City. (According to his coach.) Looking back at Rafi as a toddler and little boy made me love his son, Remy, even more.

How intriguing it is to have a grandchild. Genetics which skipped a generation showed up. My grandson inherited my teeth! His dentist calls them “sharks’ teeth”. My own adult teeth grew in behind, beside and in front of my baby teeth, which never fell out on their own, requiring braces to straighten out the mess that ensued.

Sharks’ teeth

I apologized to Remy for this. Wearing braces is no fun, and since his parents take good care of him, he’s had each baby tooth extracted when another threatens to come through, which I’m sure is no pleasure either. I’m truly sorry he experiences discomfort because of me — but he does so bravely and without complaint.

Still, I like to imagine that one day, long after I’m gone, Remy will perhaps be telling a grandchild of his own that he inherited my teeth, and his grandchild inherited them from him. Who knows, these shark teeth may continue for generations to come. (The good thing about mine is the roots are so deep I’ve been told they’ll never fall out —  so far, they haven’t.)

I hope Remy reads “Don Quixote”. I loved it.

Besides my bothersome teeth, Remy seems to have inherited my love of reading. Hurrah! I hope he derives as much pleasure from this pastime as I have throughout my life.

Here’s to you Remy!

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