Simply being, with grandkids and birds

I'm sitting by the big picture window with my four-month-old grandson on my lap, his head turning as he scans the room for interesting stuff, but then he looks outside and locks his eyes--on what? Does he see the bluejays tussling for the best spot at the feeder, the finches flitting around the thistle, the first junco of the season hopping in the grass? Or is he puzzling over the colorful maple leaves shaking in the wind? Whatever he sees, it has his full attention.

Then along comes big sister: "Grandma, I want to watch birds with you!" Fortunately, there's room at the window for all of us and plenty of birds to go around. But she doesn't stay for long. She is very, very busy serving invisible soup to a menagerie of stuffed animals, and then she wants to color and build a marble tower and play her uncle's drums.

This is what I like about spending time with my grandkids: I don't have to be smart or creative or reasonable or even coherent; I just have to be here. Sometimes that's about all I can manage, but fortunately, it's enough.

Grampa enjoying his sweeties.