One of my favorite rituals between my two year old grandson Thomas and me starts when he rings the doorbell at our front door and My Beloved answers it. Thomas runs in yelling “Papa! “Papa!” (that’s what he calls me) then sprints down the hall to find me in my office at my desk. I turn enthusiastically, act surprised, scoop him up in my arms and give a big bear hug to him as I yell, “It’s Thomas!”
Occasionally, as occurred tonight, he is too fast for me to be in my office when he arrives. I had just gotten out of the shower and was only partially clothed as I heard him run down the hall yelling “Papa! Papa!”
I yelled through the door, “Hi, Thomas! Hello, my friend! I’m in the bathroom and will be out in a few minutes.”
As I scrambled to finish dressing, I sensed tiny fingers wiggling under the bathroom door. I crept to it, gently pushed my fingers beneath it, and wiggled mine without saying a word. Instantly my fingers were covered by his tiny hands, his fingers strongly gripping mine. He burst out laughing with a voice so sweet it captures my heart every time I hear it. I laughed with him, a graying man delighted once again by our childish antics.
Thomas is so young he may not remember any of this, but it will remain forever a wonderful warm memory in my heart.
It is said that good things come in small packages, and it’s the little things in life that often make all the difference. All I know is when that little guy and my tiny grandtwins Zachary and Alexander are around, I see magic and miracles everywhere. When the spell is strong enough, I’m transformed into a young child again, if only for a while.
