It was like a weekend from a 1950’s television series where the whole family is together doing wholesome, heartwarming things in a perfect, insulated world where even the weather cooperates. The Bobsey Twins At Grampy’s Farm.

               Mary Ellen and I had our two oldest grandchildren for a sleep-over on Saturday night.

               For dinner, I grilled steaks outside, (The weather was BEAUTIFUL, as I mentioned, with plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the mid to upper sixties.)    

               After dinner, Grampy (that’s me) and the kids (Alyssa, age 7, and Lainie, age 5) baked chocolate chip cookies.

               The BIG difference between this time and the last time we baked cookies together was that, this tim,e Grampy didn’t pull a sheetful of hot cookies out of the oven, proceed to drop the whole damned thing on the floor, invoke the five-second rule and declare, “It doesn’t make any difference what they LOOK like! They TASTE fantastic!” (Grampy ended up eating all the schmooshed cookies himself.)

               While the cookies were cooling, the kids got into their jammies and watched I-Carly! On Nickeloedean.

               Ever see that show? I fail to see the attraction, to be perfectly honest with you. But then, a few years ago, I also failed to see the attraction of Barney and The Teletubbies. (Particularly, The Teletubbies! What sort of mind comes up with ideas like that? A mind that’s on crack, that’s what!)

               But Alyssa and Lainie LOVE I-Carly! And hey, who am I to judge? I used to LOVE The Monkees. So I guess my tastes in pop culture are not without flaws either.

               After I-Carly!, It was time for some serious cookie eating, (two apiece) and then off to bed to read a story to Grandma. (Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham. The same thing their mother used to read to me when she was a little girl.)

               The next morning, Sunday, we all had Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast. They prefer that to Grampy’s waffles. (That’s okay. My feelings aren’t hurt. My waffles suck!)

               Later in the day, Alyssa and I hopped on our bikes, and Lainey jumped into a wagon that was hitched to Gramma. (My bike is the rusty old mountain bike.  Alyssa’s is the “Barbie Princess” one. Easy to tell the difference.)

               We all headed out in sixty-five degree sunshine and went down our rural, country road about three-quarters of a mile to visit my son, his fiancée, and my new, two-week-old granddaughter, Nova Ann.

               Along the way, Alyssa would barrel ahead, her little legs pumping into a blur as she pedaled for all she was worth. She would then stop at the crest of hill, look over her shoulder and shout joyfully, “Come on, Grampy! Keep up!”

               We visited with Scott, Sandy and Nova for about a half hour in their newly renovated (by Scott) farmhouse. We all held the baby for a period of time. Alyssa even got to give her a bottle. Then it was back on our bikes and wagons for the ten-minute trip home.

               Later in the afternoon, it was time to go up into the hayloft of the horse barn to throw down a few bales. (To be honest, it didn’t really need to be done, but…)

               In the loft, the two young ones squealed and laughed as they joyfully scrambled up the stacks of bales to the very, very top! Under Grampy’s watchful eye (and outstretched arms…just in case!), they struggled, grunted and shouted with excitement as they pushed and made the hay tumble to the floor below, missing a seemingly terrified Grampy by inches each time!

               Then, the trap door in the floor of the loft was opened, and the two girls pushed the bales through the opening to the barn floor below, with a 55-year-old arm firmly clamped around each of their waists so that the bales were the only things that fell through the trap door.

               Barn chores complete, it was then off into the house to eat lunch and play games with Gramma.

               When Mommy finally arrived, two exhausted and happy little girls piled into the child seats in the back of the van.  They kissed Gramma and Grampy good-bye, and made us promise that they could come back again really, really soon!

               Mary and I both stood in the driveway waving good-bye and exchanging “I love yous” with the passengers in the van. When they rode over the hill and disappeared from sight, I put my around Gramma’s waist, and we both headed up the walkway to the house.

               “We made some wonderful memories today, Grampy!” Mary said warmly to me, and squeezed me as hard as she could.

               “Yes, we did,” I answered, still basking in the golden glow of love and happiness that seemed to dance on the very air all around me.

               Life is good.