I spent the afternoon with my grandparents.
Seeing how much joy they got from sitting around and yakking with me for a couple hours makes me think that it is something I should do more often. Really, it wasn't really that much time out of my life, to drive an hour down the road and make two old fogies insanely happy. It's the rest of the family that drives me crazy. I actually like my grandparents.
And did we ever talk. We talked about the gang problem in the inner city, violence in Africa, how I'm doing at work, the differences in accounting designations, knitting, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and acoustics, how Anglican services are strange but nice (they are soooo not Anglican, and neither am I), how Christmas was nice because they had holopchi and borscht, not turkey and dressing. We talked about their children (one of whom is my mother), plans for their funerals, genealogy. We talked about just about everything.
They spent a great deal of time talking about how interesting it was that my brothers are such engaged fathers. They were baffled by seeing a father jump up and take his two-year-old daughter to the bathroom when she yelled "PEE!" at the top of her lungs (it would be terrible to get the Dora panties dirty, doncha know).
I told my grandparents that I expected no less of my brothers.