Being Young and Snow

I could talk about my granddaughter ad nauseam but usually refrain because I know she's not special to most people, just to those of us who love her.

I take care of Ember twice a week while her parents are working. Her maternal grandmother takes care of her the other three days. I'm a two-day caregiver because I live 35 miles away and her other grandma lives four doors down the street from her. I get up at 5:50 and am ready about 6:50 to do the commute. Her dad, my son Tony, is usually home by 4 PM, and I'm back in the country in about 45 minutes.

Today was an Ember day. It was also a snow day. When you're one month shy of 2 years old, you love snow. "Nopants, Gama, peasssss." At almost 2, Ember can't always say "s" or "r" or "l" and though her vocabulary lacks certain letters, it doesn't lack the words. Snowpants, boots, jacket, hat, mittens, and then for me, boots, jacket, scarf, mittens.

The snow was light and airy, just the right consistency to toss in the air or be swept away. Some people use shovels or brooms to clear the walks. Ember uses her mittened hands. She walked up and down her front walk, bending over to sweep the snow away and loved every minute of it. Her hands got cold and wet; she didn't care. Her nose ran; she didn't care. Her cheeks got red and cold; she didn't care. She sat on the snow-covered stairs of the house next door and offered me a seat. "Sit down, Gama." I declined because I wasn't wearing snowpants. "Sit down, Gama!" Again I declined with the same explanation. "Gama, sit down...peassssss," in a voice that was not happy with my declinations of her hospitality.

Ember makes me laugh. It's all so simple to her. "Peasss" is a magic word that usually gets results, but denying her request, for good reason, even with the magic word, is a lesson taught.

Life changes - I was once 2 years old. My son was also. I'm now 58. He is 26. His daughter is now the 2-year-old. If becoming a mother and a grandmother aren't changes, what is?