When I was a child my father's mother would come to visit from time to time. I always loved that she would come and stay for a week or possibly longer. We would pick her up at the Greyhound bus station and my mother would put the only suitcase I ever saw her with, in the back of our car.
I did loads of things with my grandmother. She was one of the kindest people I've ever known. She never got mad at me once, and I did a lot that was worthy of any caregiver's anger. She kept me occupied while my parents were at work and still had time to do all the darning, cooking and weeding. She was a master of all three.
She and I had a saying we shared until the day she died. It started when I was quite young and by the time I was in college it seemed more like something a child would say, but I never would have stopped.
One of us upon parting would say, "I love you." The other would reply, "I love you more." And then the originator would say back, "I love you the most."
My daughter has a similar thing she does with her braillest which involves a certain number of hand squeezes. I am not supposed to know the secret and if I did, I certainly wouldn't share it with you folks—what kind of secret would it be then? What I can say though is it involves a similar upping the ante on who loves the other one more.
Today, after making a grilled cheese sandwich for me with the help of her father, my daughter was dashing upstairs. I told her thank you and said, "I love you." She responded as she got to the top of the stairs, "I love you more." So I called up to her, now in the bonus room, "I love you the most!" She yelled back in a voice with finality in the tone, "No you don't!"
The Big Boy Update: There are no screens today during the school week and for some reason my son wanted to come to see what his sister and I were working on during his breaks. Instead of just looking at us he pulled out a drawer of LEGOs. By the end of the day, they were all over the floor as he decided to reunite every Minifigure with the proper clothing and gear. It may take a week to finish.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband asked me if I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich when he was making lunch today. I said thanks but no and kept working. A bit later I came downstairs and asked if he was still cooking and or if he'd cleaned up. I had just missed him putting everything away. Not five minutes later I saw him and my daughter making a grilled cheese sandwich. My daughter had heard me ask and had wanted to make one for me. She was quite insistent. She helped in the whole process and even learned how to cut a full sandwich on the diagonal with the big knife. She delivered it to me on a plate and said she wanted me to be happy. I told her she had made me very happy.
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