![]() Willingness to Listen : The best grandparents know how to listen. This is a surprising and wonderful privilege of being a grandparent – we get to interact with our grandchildren and live life, for a little while, with their sense of time and their capacity for wonder. Children need to know that no matter what might be going on in their lives, no matter what disappointments they might encounter at school or on the street out in the world, they are always safe and loved at grandma’s house.Įmpathy: Successful grandparents learn once again how to see the world through a child’s eyes. ![]() Unconditional Love: The best grandparents are a rock-solid foundation of love in a child’s life. Generosity: The most successful grandparents tend to be generous – not necessarily in terms of buying toys, gifts and offering financial generosity, but generous with their time, generous with their hospitality and generous with advice (when asked). Even if your grandchildren are boisterous or sometimes misbehave, the best grandparents know that it’s all part of growing up. Patience: The best grandparents tend to be full of patience – for their grandchildren as well as for their grandchildren’s mom and dad. Here are a few ideas to be the best Grandparent you can be: As grandparents, we try to provide the right blend of support and independence to help our grandkids grow up with a positive, influential family presence around them. I could feel his warmth, smell him and hear his big sigh, as he drifted off to dreamland.Īnd without effort, I cried myself to sleep.įerragut is a special ed para-educator for Fargo Public Schools and a longtime contributor to The Forum's Editorial Page.Seeing our children grow up to have children of their own is one of life’s great joys and privileges, and it reminds us of how life is a circle, with so many stages and cycles. Our arms, interlocking in love, comfort and security. I would lay my arm across his front paw like I've done a thousand times and he put his other paw on top of my arm like he's done a thousand and one times. He and I always did this thing, this gentle but strong expression of love that I'd never experienced with an animal before. I stroked the familiar contours of his head, neck and shoulders. Restless, I stared at the ceiling and found myself imagining that Rupie was lying next to me. The day Rupert died, young and unexpectedly, I laid in bed unable to sleep. I called it “the drive-by lick,” And it was MY drive-by lick. Always, without stopping Rupert would lick my cheek or mouth as he passed by. He'd get up for a drink or to pee and would trot between the table and the couch. There was one thing I knew I could count on: Rupert slept on the papason. There was about 8” between the couch and the coffee table. When Aidry went down for a nap or for the night, I'd flop on the living room floor with Rupie by my side, his head on my stomach.Īt the lake cabin, because all the bedrooms were full, I slept on our blue leather couch in the living room. When I'd babysit my grandson Aidry (while Ashley pulled a full shift as a registered nurse), Rupie was with me at every task: Making meals, washing dishes, changing Aidry's diaper, giving him a bath. Then he'd run to me and the tug-of-war: The “It's mine" "No, it's mine” game would go on endlessly. Slamming on the brakes, he'd stop and roll while making the most valiant efforts to get that prize in his mouth. I'd throw the big heavy sock or football as far as I could and he would explode out of the gates like a racehorse and over-run his target every time. ![]() The door would open and Rupert would run outside, galloping at light speed around the back yard, stopping to smell the air while peeing mid-stride. When I went to see his parents and my grandkids, he'd be at the door scratching to get out and play. If it was an ice cold February night, I'd squat down to hug him as if my life depended on it. On our walks or runs, if it was a hot summer day, he'd sloppily drink every drop of water from the bottle that I poured into his dry, panting mouth. ![]() Sitting my lap, he would inhale the potpourri of wild exotic smells that he would never find in the city. Weekends for years, he would come to my lake cabin where I would take the two of us on meandering trips around the lakes, with all the windows down. I would take him on errands to the store or when I got my car washed. ![]() We'd go on long walks around his neighborhood. That's probably because that's how Rupert loved me back. Mine was a rare, unselfish, unconditional love. Other than my children and grandchildren, I don't know if I'm never going to love anyone as much as I loved Rupert. His home was with my daughter and her young family. ![]()
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