Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm,I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm, I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends.
So sang The Beatles in 1967. And that is another reminder for a blog on memories.
But back to the task at hand. My youngest grandson has a broken ankle and so while he is on holiday from school he hasn’t been able to go to the cycling champs last weekend, to Fiji on holiday with a friend nor can he go skiing later this month with the family. Life can get pretty mean when you are 12 years old and at a loose end. His brother’s school holidays don’t start until next week and with his foot in a cast, he is pretty well stumped as to what he can do.
Yesterday, to my great delight, he decided that he would spend a day with his Granma – well I guess anything is better than sitting in Mum’s office watching movies alone.
We decided that it was a good day to get the rest of the river stones for the beds around the new patio. So we went off to the garden centre together.
Jae told me that he was certain he could lift the 25kgs bags onto the trolley but I argued against it and went to get some help. By the time I came back, this slight boy had managed to put three sacks onto the trolley. But with the help of the garden centre attendant, he lifted two more and they trotted off to put them into the car while I went to pay for them.
After coffee with a friend, a walk for Lotte in the dog park and some grocery shopping, we returned home. Whereupon this child then worked out how we could get these very heavy bags out of the trunk of the car and into position.
As you can see, the right foot is in a cast but this didn’t stop my boy. He wanted to continue the job and put the stones in place but the skies opened at that moment and we all ran into the house.
So I had another coffee and Jae had another smoothie while I made lunch.
The rain pounded down and we all settled in for the afternoon. Amazing how quickly a boy can create an untidy corner in the living room. All in all a lovely day for a Granma and I hear from his Mother that he enjoyed it too. Tomorrow he is going with me to the hospice to help with lunches. So that will be the subject of tomorrow’s blog.
Our grandchildren accept us for ourselves, without rebuke or effort to change us, as no one in our entire lives has ever done, not our parents, siblings, spouses, friends – and hardly ever our own grown children. Ruth Goode