Bill’s parents, Bill and Carolyn, made our trip to the Caribbean possible, you know. I mean, I did have to get permission (and a substitute) to leave school for a week. And Bill did have (happily) a week’s worth of personal days left at his old job so that he could get away.
But even with arrangements like these, we Still have Three Children. Children who needed to stay at home while we were in the Caribbean. Children who needed to Go To School. Children who are young enough to want some Looking After.
We asked, and they answered. With No Hesitation.
Yes, Carolyn canceled numerous commitments; Bill took a week off work. They flew down to North Carolina and, in the end, gave up more than a week of their time to enable us to take our cruise.
Pretty stellar kindness, if you ask me. Pretty magnificent generosity.
They all, reportedly, had a great time. Carolyn used to teach school and the two of them raised seven sons, so they know how to check progress on homework and to get people out the door on time and to keep sports practices and music lessons and bedtimes straight. You’d never know they were out of practice from the way they kept on top of it all– not to mention preparing the meals and doing laundry and keeping children after their chores and all that kind of thing.
You’d think that, after seven sons (Seven Sons) they’d still be on the weary side of all this, but they were perfectly willing to do this for us, nay, they even seemed Glad To Do It.
The children, of course, were Delighted to have them. As were we. It was a wonderful trip that we Just Wouldn’t Have Been Able to Enjoy without them.
How do you thank someone for something like this, one wonders? I mean, we brought them a bottle of rum, one distilled on the British Virgin Islands, but truly, that seems like So Much Less than their gift to us deserves. And right now, we’re not really in the position to offer them anything else. Not that they’re looking for it.
Will has a game he’s invented with me. It’s been going on for some time now– maybe since October or so: he’s trying to “beat” me at the number of kisses I’ve bestowed on him in his lifetime. He figures (and I’ve told him) that I’ve got a pretty phenomenal head start in the matter, seeing as I was kissing his sweet face and chubby limbs before he even knew what a kiss was, and seeing as, when I’ve gotten a hold of him– ever since he could move (which isn’t an infrequent occurrence)– I’ve always kissed him fast and furiously. So the number of Mom-to-Will kisses probably numbers in the tens of thousands. Maybe more.
Still, he’s trying to catch up.
I’ve told him it’s impossible. He can go ahead– and he does, grabbing my face and pressing kisses into my cheek in rapid fire. But try as he might, he’ll never catch up.
He doesn’t like losing, and he pursues his goal with dogged persistence. But I’ve told him that the only way he can ever pay me back for the way I love him is to love his children the way I’ve loved mine.
I’m pretty sure that’s how it works, and I’m pretty sure that, if asked, Bill and Carolyn might say the same thing to me: just love my children (and grandchildren) the way they’ve loved theirs.
I’m pretty sure.
Well, I’m in no hurry for the grandchildren part, but I’ll do my best to emulate them when those babies get here. And meanwhile, I sure do love their grandchildren.
Thank you So Much, Bill and Carolyn.
