In March, we were all invited to the home of Laura’s in-laws. At the family gathering, my grandson Mazen would meet my granddaughter Emerson for the first time. Talk about a grandma who was pumped!
“All I want for Mother’s Day,” I told daughter Kath earlier that week, “is for you to take a really good photo of Emmie sitting in Maze’s lap.”
“Okay,” she said.
“And I want a print. Something I can put on the refrigerator.”
Beyond the endearing photo we would capture, I pictured another scene over and over. I would hold Emmie while Mazen made silly faces and rattled colorful toys. Surely Emmie would let out her glorious laugh as she watched the shenanigans of her cousin.
When we got there, Maze took one look at Emmie. A quick look. “Maze,” I said. “Come meet your cousin.”
“She drools,” he announced. “I don’t like drool.”
And he never got close. Not once.
The next day he said to me, “It’s not that I don’t love Emerson, Grammie. I just don’t like drool.”
And there you have it.
From the mouths of babes…comes drool.
From the mouths of four-year-olds, comes some very deep thinking. You can love the person, but you don’t have to love the behavior.
Photo: Daughter Laura holds her baby, Emerson, who looks quite ready to play with her cousin. And yes, that dark pink spot on her shirt is the dreaded drool. Daughter Kath has her arms around her son Mazen.