Number 18 - Be Young Again (if only for one day)

That Little Boy Smell

Number 18 – Be Young Again (if only for one day)

Everyone knows the smell.  Anyone who has ever been around a small, energetic boy, that is.

The slight odor of dried perspiration, the feint hint of stale puppy dog breath and a sprinkle or two of good ole’ dirt and grime for good measure.  Yes, that would be the smell of a little boy after a full day of—well, being a little boy.

One generation removed from having two little boys of my own, I am now the proud G-Pa of an energetic, never-sit-or-stand-still grandson.  Today we were going to do things little boys enjoy doing.  Or as he told his Yia-Yia (grandmother) before she left for work: ‘Today we’re doing man things.’

First thing on the agenda: Hanging a wind ornament in the yard, a Christmas present I received last year from Yia-Yia.  (It might have been three years ago, perhaps as many as five.)  If I do say so myself: We did a great job and the ornament looks fantastic.  It made me wonder what took me so long.  It also made me wonder how much longer it would have taken had Krischan not insisted we hang it today.     

Next came a trip to the store to buy some much-needed accessories for the day: Ice cream, a Tee-ball baseball glove, a collage-style picture frame, a two-pack of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toothbrushes (one for G-Pa and Yia-Yia’s house and one for Daddy’s house) and enough boxes of Hot Tamales (or ‘spicy candy,’ as Krischan calls it) to keep our tongues in red dye for the rest of his three-week visit with us. 

What would a trip to the store be without a stop at the Golden Arches* on the way home?  (*A clever ploy on Krischan’s part to make his way to McDonald’s indoor playground, one of his favorite respites.  I fell for it.  Again.)

Once we got back home it was time to ‘break in the leather.’  But first things first: I had to explain how a right-handed boy should wear a baseball glove on his left hand; not nearly as simple as it sounds.  Granted, Krischan may in time prove to be ambidextrous (he is equally adept at throwing things hard with both his right and his left hand) but for the sake of today’s lesson I assumed he’ll eventually be a pure righty.  He managed with the glove for a while, up until the point his ‘hand got sweaty’ and he switched the glove over to his right hand.  From that point on he was catching the ball in the web of the glove on his right hand (good) but trying to throw the ball back to me Jai-Alai style with the ball still in his gloved right hand (bad).           

Now it was time for some ‘man things,’ meaning things I have done for many years but if I had my druthers someone else would be doing them.  Like pulling weeds in the garden along the side of our yard.  Or in this case, getting rid of the ‘snake creatures’ that were trying to infiltrate the garden along the side of our yard.  Is there a better ‘snake creature catcher’ than a grandson?  I think not!  (Score one for G-Pa.) 

Is there a better reward for a job well done for a five-year old boy than handing him a box of sidewalk chalk and telling him to go crazy on your driveway?  If there is I’d like to know about it, because Krischan’s face lit up like mine had 30 minutes earlier when I saw Krischan catch a ball in the web of his glove (at the time on the correct left hand) for the very first time in his life.

We took a break from the brilliant springtime afternoon sun and went inside to rummage through countless family photos until we found the perfect six—three horizontally framed and three vertically framed—to fit into the photo collage frame.  It would be a gift for Papa, Krischan’s great grandfather later in the day.

But before that, Krischan and I went for our afternoon run (and walk whenever Krischan’s ‘heart hurt’).  We ran (and walked) by the usual spots: The lake on the 18^th hole of the Braelinn Golf Course that is inhabited by a baby-duck-eating shark; the tunnel running beneath Braelinn Road ‘where the Ninja Turtles live;’ and the tool shed on the 2^nd hole of the golf course ‘where zombies sleep.’  That grandson of mine has quite the imagination: That shark couldn’t possibly discriminate between baby ducks and adult ducks, and did he even consider adolescent ducks?  Seriously, sometimes that boy just doesn’t think things through. 

Our final stop of the day was the assisted living complex where Papa has been a resident for the past four months.  Seeing Krischan brought a huge smile to Papa’s face.  As the three of us made our way out to the commons for a walk around the grounds I noticed Krischan had a similar affect on the entire Memory Care Unit, residents and staff alike.  An effervescent five-year old boy and his infectious smile will do that to a person.  After our walk we sat outside and enjoyed the bright sunshine and the cool afternoon breeze.  I managed to snap a couple of photos of the two of them—separated in life by 83 years but today as close as a great-grandfather and great-grandson could possibly be.  We escorted Papa to the dining hall for his dinner, me holding one arm and his great-grandson ever-so-carefully holding onto the other.  Krischan only let go of his death-grip to run ahead and hold open any doors in our path. 

When we returned home it was time for a bath.  Krischan wanted to ‘wash the sweat out of his hair’ after a full day of being a boy. 

After a day like today there is no doubt in my mind he had that little boy smell. 

But you can’t take my word for it.  I couldn’t tell.

Most likely because I smelled like a little boy, too.                 

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