Sunday, June 16, 2013

The Proof Is in the Pudding



On Friday night Jill and I happily watched our little granddaughter, who played until she could play no longer and then went off to bed without complaint.  That’s how big girls do it, and at the age of two years and one day she has adopted the discipline that comes with the experience of long days and dream-filled nights.

I lifted her to the floor on Saturday morning when she awoke, and she ran running, her arms filled with her nighttime soft toys, her nana and papa music box in one hand, straight to the refrigerator where she bypassed the sippy cup of milk that was waiting for her and went straight to the pudding.

And on this Father’s Day . . . that is what being a grandpa or a daddy is all about.

If they want pudding, give them pudding.

I did much the same thing when Jill and I were raising our own daughters.  Every Saturday morning, while everyone was still sleeping, I would drive uptown to Dunkin’ Donuts and buy a dozen donuts, chocolate glazed, toasted coconut, crème-filled.  Great stuff.  When the girls awoke there waiting for them would be a lovely Saturday donut breakfast.

I didn’t realize that I was, week by week, addicting their developing brains to the endorphin rush that comes with a hefty dose of high fructose corn syrup.  Today I feel kind of bad about it, but back then it seemed like a great idea. 

I was the dad, and that’s what dads do.

Yesterday before Maddie could dig into the pudding, Jill fortuitously appeared and in the tradition of moms and grandmoms all over the world whisked the unopened pudding cup away despite the cries of protest and began madly slicing strawberries into bite-sized pieces.  

There’s a world of difference between chocolate pudding and strawberries; moms live in one hemisphere and we dads live in the other.

So Happy Father’s Day, to all of you lucky dads and granddads that live on my side of the world.  It’s your day.  Enjoy the heck out of it.

And ladies forgive us our exasperating tendency to try continuously to find the easiest way to keep everyone happy.  All we want Is for everything to stay in some sort of balance, for the tears to dry, for chaos to yield to harmony

If it takes a donut or two or a dozen shots of chocolate pudding – what’s the harm in that?

3 comments:

Jill Bartholomew said...

Loved this blog! What a great Dad you have been to our girls and a wonderful grand-Papa to our granddaughter! Love you, Jill

Monica Lloyd said...

Mr. B -- I stumbled upon this post a moment ago and am so very glad I did. What a sweet tribute to all Dads and Grand-Dads out there. My own father was a chocolate-frosted-cake-doughnuts-on-Sunday-mornings guy. He was our 'Yes Man.' (I'm not sure he ever said no to me or my sisters while we were growing up -- he left that to Mom). My oldest, Annie, was lucky enough to know her Grand-papa, and what she remembers most is how he loved to 'spoil her.' They'd go for ice cream after preschool every Thursday afternoon. She loved it, and so did he. We lost Dad two years ago to cancer and miss him daily. But of course we're eternally grateful for the memories, eternally grateful for the good man that he was and the time we had with him. A very happy (belated) Father's Day to you, Mr. B! Thanks for sharing your thoughts (such a treat to read them)! Take care, Monica (Nolan) Lloyd

Billthebrown said...

The Leo Buscaglia of Donuts and Pudding!

Why when I was growing up we had to make our OWN Pudding,.....

Great Post Jim, See you soon.

Bill