The Grandfathers’ Axiom

Wouldn’t you think that between the big announcement – “You’re going to be a grandpa!” – and the actual event, someone would have clued in the most critical information a grandpa needs to know.

Everyone knows this, or should. If somehow it misses the mark in those first months of the grandchild’s life, the grandpa’s observations of child rearing should be in the very atmosphere.

Here it is: The Grandfather’s Axiom.

Never, EVER, say anything in the young child’s presence that you don’t want him/her to repeat. Never.

This seems to apply to grandsons more than granddaughters, although I don’t have first hand knowledge of granddaughters. Or perhaps it is true that little girls receive gratification from pretty dresses and sweet vocabularies, while their brothers thrive on shocking their elders by repeating street and playground language.

Dave, the grandpa, is a relatively quiet man, but learned that he could ignite a verbal firestorm from Samuel, and now Uriah, simply by using questionable words.

Who decides they are questionable? Hard to say. But the moment one of the boys’ parents suggest that maybe we should use nicer words, the more the objectionable vocabulary bounces off the walls.

Samuel, now 5, was a bit slow talking. We’ve given him some leeway since he arrived on Earth several weeks before expected. His occasional meltdown may be attributable to his frustration in trying to express himself verbally. Generally, however, he is a sunny chap, always up for a walk or a trip to the local playground or “camping” in Grandpa’s “big white truck” parked at the curb in front of his house.

His little brother, Uriah (yeah, I know), just turned 3 and is a somewhat more contemplative child. His vocabulary is probably as extensive as Samuel’s, but he is a bit more cautious about what he says in his parents’ hearing.

Family lore has it that Samuel’s first real word was “formaldehyde.” Since I live 700 miles away, I have to take his parents’ word for it. I guess we’ve missed most of the boys’ “first” events, but really, can you imagine a little fellow not yet 3 saying “goo-goo, mama, dada, formaldehyde”? I don’t think so.

Now comes John Bach (they threw in an extra name to make up, I like to hope, for “Uriah.”) His full name is Uriah John Bach Withnell. I think I’ll keep lobbying for “JB.” We have friends whose sons’ names are initials only, and so far they’ve survived.

JB’s speech is developing nicely. Jean says he’s beginning to expand on words and what they mean.

It’s funny in what ways they differ. If JB picks up a book and holds it upside down, Samuel will walk across the room to set it straight. It may or may not stay that way.

Does it matter? It matters to Samuel.

Most mornings the boys choose a small toy, usually a truck (that would be a tiny blue dump truck) and that stays in or near to hand all day. To you or me, it’s just a truck. To the boys, it’s the Holy Grail. If Samuel does take his eye off it, it’s generally gone when he looks for it, and all you-know-what breaks out. When the reverse is the case, JB has a tight grip on it before his brother knows it has been purloined.

Something along these lines goes on for weeks, until both boys are apparently tired of it, and the truck hides under the couch for a couple of days.

Their mom reports on a conversation she had with the little guy. “We were sitting around, describing the head in great detail: forehead, cheeks, eyes, and that small bit of hair over the eyes – zebras!”

Zebras?

The boy digs in his heels and repeats. “Zebras.”

No problem. He also decided it was time to change my name. “Grandpa,” he now calls me.

“I’m GrandMA, JB,” I stressed. “Grandpa,” he repeats firmly.

Then there was the time when he and his mom were out in the garden and she was correcting Uriah telling his brother to "Get out of my way now!" So he repeats it: "Get out of my way now, PLEASE!"

But back to Grandfathers’ Axiom.

Never, EVER, say anything in the young child’s presence that you don’t want him/her to repeat. Never.

Dave used to amuse himself by snarling German phrases. He didn’t know many, but his favorites were Seig Heil, Javohl, and “Achtung, Schwein.” (Please excuse if these are spelled wrong. My little dictionary is old and fragile.)

In Leesburg, Virginia, such words serve only to crack up big brother, Isaac, and Grandpa. Which of course sends Samuel into paroxysms of laughter and unending repetitions.

Grandpa can’t turn off the hilarity and has to go back out to the camper until things settle down inside.

And the little boys will do it again as soon as the laughs die down.