one day I’ll write a letter to the boys

Dear Grandparents,                                                     5-10-07

Amazing: The fine little moments that come along with being a grandparent. Some deserve to be enjoyed again and again.

When our very young grandsons spend the night with us, it is a tradition that after bedtime baths, the boys join Baba for a rootin-tootin good ol’ wrestling match on our big, king-sized bed. All the flipping and flopping and body-slamming into pillows, and pulling and dragging little bodies across mountains of fluff are a way to role-play the masculine supremacy that boys, big and small, seem to crave. (It’s also a way to wear them out and get them good and tired!) I watch, and occasionally I will join in … once I remove my prescription lenses, my hair barrettes, my watch, my rings, my shoes ….

Say! You should try this wrestling stuff with your grandsons! It’s a lot of good exercise!

After our romp, we find a good 4-wheel-drive, mud-slinging, adrenalin-drenched saga on TV. Not that we are Nascar fans, or anything like that, just that slinging dirt and mud, and splashing through puddles and creeks is a hoot to little boys! Anyway, we all pile up in the great big ol’ king-sized bed with big bowls of popcorn, tumblers of half-juice-and-half-soda-pop, and hundreds of paper towels. We feast our eyes and ears on roaring, rumbling exhausts and revving engines that blast from the big screen—three feet away from the bed. Sometimes, we watch shoot-em-up-bang-bangs, or outer-space-galactic animations. But, whatever the choice; it’s loud, it’s fun, and it’s definitely stimulating!

Of course, when you’re little, even cannon blasts or exploding buildings can’t captivate you much past bedtime. Once your inner clock says nighty-night, you can sleep right through the sound of detonated ammunition or crashing tsunamis.

No matter how exciting, the boys just can’t hold out very long. Soon, the talking stops. The questions cease. And the excitement wanes. Then, a yawn or two will float out of a little mouth.

That’s Baba’s cue: The volume goes down. And Brycie nuzzles up against Baba’s big chest. Brycie tugs at a cover and tries to pull it high enough so he can burrow his chin into the downy abyss. “Let’s cuddle, Baba,” he mumbles. (This is what his mama says when she puts him to bed.) And then, he puts his little hand in Baba’s hand and says, “Wub it, Baba.

You see, Baba started a tradition with the boys when they were very young. Holding hands is nice, but that’s what you do with Mommy and Daddy. With Baba, you get your fingers massaged! Baba rubs between the fingers—down where the fingers join together and protrude from the palm. The fleshy, web-like-skin between the fingers must be a point of relaxation. I don’t know anything about acupuncture, but I’m betting this area must be a good pressure point into which they stick those pins!

Baba discovered that tender finger-rubbing worked when our grandchildren were infants. He found that when he held the babies, the gentle massaging of their fingers and hands relaxed them and helped them fall asleep.

Once Baba holds hands, it’s usually only a matter of minutes before the boys release one or two more yawns and they give up their eyelids to gravity. We are soon lugging their limp, little spaghetti-bodies out of the big romper-room-movie-bed and retiring them to their own little beds in the guest room. Before long, they will be too old for the great rumbles, and for the cheap popcorn and old movies. And, I know that even the finger-rubbing will no longer be requested. But for now, it provides precious moments with two of the most cherished little people in our world.

Baba says one day Bryce and Riley will be grown men, sitting around a McDonalds table, and they will say something like, “Remember when Baba used to rub our fingers? That felt sooo good.” They will laugh and recall the many movies and the spilled popcorn and dumped drinks that we shared. Nevertheless, we are sure that when our grandsons are grown, and they have babies of their own, they will calm their little ones by “wubbing” their fingers.

When the boys are old enough to read good, long letters from Curly Grandma, I am going to write to them and tell them all about how they used to plead, “Wub it, Baba.”

With this future letter in mind, you can bet I was certain to get a picture of them wrestling so I will be able to include it in the correspondence. They will really like that!

Well, take care, Grandparents. Have a good time with your grandsons. Use sunscreen! And, don’t forget to write lots of letters.

With all my love,

Curly Grandma

P.S. Last time Brycie was falling asleep, he said, “Wub my weg, Turdy Drama.” You gotta love it!

Who is Curly Grandma? She is a real grandma with seven grandchildren.  Her name comes from her first grandchild, Megan, who learned to distinguish her two grannies with adjectives (hence the Curly). Visit Curly Grandma at her website and learn all about writing letters to grandchildren. On her site, get lots of information, free stationery, and you can even buy her book Curly Grandma’s Letters: Writing to Kids and Capturing Your Autobiography (Tate Publishing; available on This blog and illustration may not be copied or reproduced without permission from Anita Bryce.


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