Pardon me while I collapse into a heap.
Little Man and Sweetie Pie just left. They spent the night last night, and this old granny is feelin' her age along with the arthur-itis and the rheumatiz. At four and one-and-a-half, they are indeed a handful.
Little Man is constantly on the go, constantly talking, constantly asking questions, running and jumping and yelling and dancing and singing and never stopping for a single minute. Sweetie Pie is a snuggler - when she wants to be. And she wanted to be a lot of the time. The rest of the time she was doing the same things Little Man did, and with gusto.
I am here to say, right here in front of God and everyone else, that I love my grandchildren. I love having them spend the night, I love having them visit, I love being called "Gamma" and "Nana" and I love their parents.
I am also, much as I hate to admit it, glad when their parents come to pick them up.
And I am just as glad when the grandchildren come back.
Because I don't know if I've mentioned it lately, but I am OLD.