I Never Raised Me No Boys!

I spend a lot of time talking about my granddaughter, but I also have a grandson.  He doesn't always get equal time in my writings.  Why is that?

I never raised a son.  I had a baby brother and a stepson, but I wasn't responsible for their raising.  For a time, I helped out with my grandson, as all grandparents do, but I always felt that I fell short with him.  My excuse was, "I never raised me no boy."  But you know, I did work with boys in school every day of my working life.  To be absolutely honest, most of the successes I felt came from the boys who were the most challenging, and I don't know why!  I was the goody-two-shoes as a kid.  I never broke rules.  I never did anything close to what some of my students were doing in my classrooms, so how was I able to connect with the troubled kids?  I wish I knew.  I only know that I talked to them as adults, appreciating them as human beings, and trying to help them see that what they were doing wasn't helping them.  I respected them, for the most part, and desperately tried to be fair to them even when they were causing me no end of problems in the classroom.  But they were young men.  I don't think like a guy.  In fact, as a kid, I would come home from school or Sunday school asking my mother why guys acted the way they did.  They made no sense to me because, well, there is a disconnect between the way guys and girls think.  They were guys.  I was a girl.  That's why it's still a mystery to me how I could get along with many of the worst of them as a teacher.

When my grandson was born, I fell in love with him in the same way that I fell in love with his older sister.  He came out of the hopper looking like the spitting image of his Great-Grandpa Tague (on his father's side).  He had what I called yellow chick-down on his head--my little blondie.  And as he grew, he OUTgrew his earlier looks to resemble...well...himself.  Honestly, he was the cutest kid on the planet, and I have the pictures to prove it!

What else was there to love about our little guy?
1.  He was/is charming.  His mother told him once when he was very young that he would be a hit with the ladies.  His response was, "Yeah, I hit the ladies".

Once, when he was about 3 or 4-years-old, his mother was negotiating, as a newly-single mother, with a local car dealership for a used minivan.  The salesperson was female.  The vehicle had $11,000 on the sticker.  My daughter had $7,000 from a grant.  Ryan (my grandson) was with his mother, Megan, through the negotiations at the dealership  In the usual social banter, the sales gal told Ryan, "Your mother is very pretty."  He replied, "Yes, she is pretty, but not as pretty as you."  Guess who got the vehicle for $7k???

Right after he graduated from pre-school, his father's eldest sister Rhoda came to Indiana from California for a visit.  She brought him a tiny little teddy bear with a graduation cap on it.  We all went to Culver's, at one point, to get ice cream.  Someone asked him if he was happy.  He got a dreamy look on his face and said, "I'm in Rhoda Heaven!"  You don't think that would melt his aunt's heart?  Think again!

2.  He was/is sharp as a tack.  I can't even do justice to this with this post.

Ryan started talking earlier than his sister did, and used big words.  I mean, he didn't always use words correctly, but he knew how to change nouns into adjectives and use prefixes and suffixes to change meaning at a very early age.

When he was 2 y.o., he told me that I needed to buy new jelly because what I had was "misgusting".

When I was visiting one time, maybe before he was even two, I was at the breakfast table with crazy "bed hair".  When I asked him what he thought about my hair.  He looked and said, "Noodly"!  Gray hair going every which way resembled noodles to him, but he knew how to make noodles into an adjective.  (It was through watching his language development that I came to understand how much magic there is in learning how to speak a language.)

When two-ish, he was "helping" his father with a project and was sent into the house to get a screwdriver.  He came in the house asking for a "goofdryer".  Close!

On a visit to my house one time when he was a barely-walking toddler, Ryan managed successfully to step down the small step from my back door to the patio without help.  The look of victory on his face was priceless.  Aha!  I can do this all by myself!  Thereafter, I sat on the patio and watched him do it over and over again, as if to perfect the move.  (It was also a bit annoying because he couldn't open the door, either coming or going.  I think I finally propped it open so I wouldn't have to do door-duty while he practiced.)  What fascinated me in all of this was that it was so obviously deliberate.  He was delighted that he had conquered a barrier to his independence.  After that, I knew that we adults don't give enough credit to early-learning experiences.  They aren't by accident.  They happen due to efforts from the child.  (I have also come to believe that we humans have never truly understood the animal brain.  Our pets are like our non-verbal children.  They have feelings, but we don't understand.)  My grandson has taught me a lot!

3.  Ryan can't lie.  In his earlier years, he tried a time or two, but his face gives him away every time.
I think he has given up the attempts, and I really respect that.  Still, there is guilt for things that may or may not be in his control.  When I go out to Washington to visit, I think he feels guilty if he is not at the airport to greet me or send me off.  Several times, I have had to tell him and his sister that my feelings will not be hurt if they aren't there.  Still, I always appreciate the effort when it is made.  I am one of those weirdos that would rather hear the truth than for people to tell me what they think I want to hear with no follow-up.

4.  Ryan has passions.  Not too long ago, he got interested in "cubing" competitions.  (Solving Rubic's Cubes in record time.)  Then internet computer gaming.  Actually, ANY game becomes a competitive challenge for him.  It's frustrating for me because he's so darned good at it that I simply can't ever win with him.  (I have a Rubic's Cube that he gave me.  I've tried endlessly but have never been able to solve one of those.  I think his best time for a 3x3 is something like 19 seconds.  Really?  Really!)

Ry has told me a time or two that everything he does becomes a competition.  I worry about that.  While he sits in his room and plays internet games, he is not eating properly, getting any exercise, seeing the beauty of the world just outside his door, or understanding that the rest of life will be on freeze-frame until he gets ready to meet it.  He's not paying attention, and no amount of scolding from either set of parents will affect that.  (Hope Grandpa Joe is reading this.  You cannot "inspire" from a place of non-understanding.)

My grandson is a bundle of contradictions.  He's "only" 16--not seeing beyond his big feet--but testing, checking, arguing, evaluating the boundaries, risks, and value of life.  Make no mistake, this young man is going to catch wind and fly.  I have a bond that tells me that he and I connect, in part, because I love him to pieces.  I never raised me no boys, but I sure do love this one!!