The grandsons have, for some odd reason, been convinced at various times that Grandpa and I are somehow in the phone. Up until recently RJ, newly turned five, would take the phone in his room so I could “see” what he was doing with his Leapster. And there was no convincing him otherwise, no matter what we told him.

The same is true of Tony, who will be three in December. This is how part of our conversation went yesterday.

“Grandma, are you in the speaker phone?”

When I was done chuckling, I told him that I was in Indiana. “You remember when you stayed with me? My house is pretty far away.”

“But I can drive there,” he said.

Given his recent incident with his mommy’s van, I felt compelled to remind him that he wasn’t old enough to drive yet. I told him he should leave that up to his mommy and daddy.

Tony continued. “I have a boo-boo on my knee, Grandma, and I want you to kiss it.”

Again, I smothered a laugh. “But Honey,” I said, “I’m in Indiana. Can I kiss it over the phone?”

“W e e e l l…,”he said. “Remember when you were at my house?” (Grandpa and I babysat the boys for their mom and dad’s anniversary.) “I had a boo-boo on my knee. You kissed it and it felt better, so I want you to kiss this one.”

I did kiss it. Over the phone. And I’ve been smiling ever since. But what it got me to thinking about was that Tony and I are really not that much different. When I pray, I talk to a Father who is there even though I don’t really understand how.

And occasionally, it’d feel pretty good to ask Him to kiss my boo-boos so they’d feel better.


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November 2007
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