November 28, 2001

Have I told you about my three grandsons?

Through A Glass Darkly, by John Myers, Internet Photojournalist

Thanksgiving's come and gone, but I wouldn't be a proud grandpa if I didn't brag about the holiday enlivened by not one, nor two, but all three of my grandsons.

To be technically correct, the occasion for the family gathering the day after Thanksgiving was the birthday of my middle grandson, Nicholas Mabe, who is now 3.

He's the son of my daughter, Layla Myers Mabe, a nurse at FirstHealth Richmond Memorial Hospital of Rockingham, NC, and her husband, Mike Mabe. They live near Star, NC, in Montgomery County and the party was held at their home, of course.

This was Nicholas' first birthday when he really understood what was going on.

I'm sure he enjoyed the previous two when he got to make a mess with his cake and nobody even wiped his mouth until he was finished.

But this time around, he had the concept of receiving gifts down pat. For some weeks in advance, he had mastered the art of perusing sales ads in the newspapers and watching commercials on TV and pointing out what he wanted with the three magic words, "Me need that!"

Of course with a houseful of toys already in evidence, not to mention a yardful and probably a barnful, too, he didn't really need anything. But he got a bountiful haul anyway. Who can resist a 3-year-old's perceived "needs"?

Perhaps the highlight of the party was when he blew out the candles after we sang Happy Birthday to him, which he enjoyed so much he exclaimed loudly, "Let's do it again!"

And if that wasn't enough joy for one occasion, having my other two grandsons there to join in made it perfect.

My other two grandsons are the progeny of my son Robert Myers and his wife Cindy, who live near Pinehurst, NC. Logan is 4 and about nine-tenths, he will be 5 in February; and my youngest grandson is Matthew, born in May.

Logan and Nicholas have become great buddies, despite Logan being so much older and wiser. At their tender ages, a year and a quarter difference is a chasm that usually isn't easily crossed.

Nicholas even refers to Logan as "my friend," asking, "Where's my friend?" when my son arrived. Logan certainly deserves the lion's share of the credit for being friends with his "much younger" first cousin, as it is the elder who must suffer the younger.

I must add, Logan has almost outdone Davy Crockett, who "killed him a bar when he was only 3." It wasn't a bear, but a deer, which Logan killed the day after Thanksgiving. Granted it was a wounded 4-point buck and his daddy held the shotgun while Logan put it out of its misery. But it was 4-year-old Logan who pulled the trigger. Top that tale, other grandpas.

Back at the party, after all the presents were opened, Nicholas and Logan launched a demolition derby through the house astride their respective wheeled scooters, banging into each other with great glee and running over any slow-footed elders.

And after finishing my chores as photographer - one of the hazards of being a so-called professional - I swapped my daughter's camera for a 6-month-old bundle of joy, completing my grandfatherly hat trick.

Matthew is well into the jump-out-of-your-grasp stage, an energetic little guy whose wide eyes and toothless smile could melt the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge, if he had one.

I got to hold him for the better part of an hour, which not only gave his mom a break, but also gave me the opportunity to discover once again the joys of a baby.

I know some people don't like babies for reasons I've never been able to fathom, but I'm not among that tribe.

I've always been a sucker for a baby, but now that I have three - well, two big boys and one baby - I love it even more than I did as a father. And as much as I loved being a dad, being a grandpa has got that beat on several counts.

I can enjoy my grandsons, spoil them without a twinge, and when their diapers get full, hand them back to mama.