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about my grandson. Last week, a conversation with him reminded me of my grandfather. It had been a week since I had clapped my eyes on my grandchildren. Not being able to drive or even walk without a cane or walker sure has its drawbacks. Tuesday morning the phone rang and it was Trent on the other end of the line. “I want to come see you Grammy and give you a BIG HUG!” He growled the words “BIG HUG.” So grandpa, who had babysitting duty at the Lawrence house, packed up the little ones and in less than an hour, Trent stomped into my' living room with his new snow boots and puffy winter coat. Olivia followed, dozing in -her pink carrier. As soon as I helped Trent take off his coat, I got my hug - several hugs. Olivia had her little round head covered with kisses. I situated myself on the recliner, leg elevated and Olivia snuggled in the crook of my left arm. Trent was on the other side, with instructions to be careful not to bump Grammy’s knee. He buried his face happily in my sweatshirt. “You smell like you!” “What do I smell like?” I asked. “You smell like Grammy. You stink!”
At this point I paused to remember that I was talking to a three year old who used the word “stink” to describe flowers and hand lotion, as well as dirty diapers. So I asked, “Is it a good stink or a bad stink?” “You stink good Grammy!” I suppose he smelled a combination of fabric softener, soap, and body lotion. And that’s when I thought of my grandfather for
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