Just Tornado

It turns out that if you are going to look after a two year old grandchild you might not want to donate blood first. I think he had a good time, but I had trouble keeping my eyes open.

I had him sweeping the back steps and pad, as well as raking the front yard while I was either lying on the grass or sitting in a chair. He didn’t do a very good job, but he is only two after all, and with practice he should improve. What age do you think it is appropriate to get the grandkids to change your oil? I am figuring five and three quarters to six and up. They have to have the upper arm strength combined with small but powerful hands so they can reach into the engine and give the oil filter a good twist. The raking, sweeping and pushing the lawnmower should take care of the upper arm strength and giving him candy and then pulling it away should build up a good firm grip.

Tornado thought it was pretty funny to smack Poppa in the face with the rake while he was trying to sleep on the grass. To be fair, it was Louise that encouraged him, but he isn’t too young to take responsibility for his actions. I cut his cookie consumption in half. I call it tough love, plus I get more cookies to keep for myself. I am not totally mean, he will be able to redeem himself in the future, it may take a few years but I am willing to go the extra mile if he is.

I found out why Buster doesn’t like to be brushed with that metal bristle brush today too. Tornado thought it would be a good game to brush Poppas hair and beard. One of us was laughing, but the other was less than impressed. I have to admit that my hair looked silky smooth afterwards.

I understand why babies will shit in their diaper and just lay there until someone notices the god awful smell, they can’t do anything but eat, sleep and shit. Two year olds are a different kettle of fish though. They kind of speak, well, they speak but I don’t understand what they are saying. They must know that the diaper is full of warm shit and yet they just keep playing and demanding cookies. It’s been a while since I sat for any length of time in my own shit (not as long as you might think), and as I recall it isn’t very pleasant.

Sure, at first it is warm and squishy, but soon it turns cold and sticky. The cold and sticky is where I expect to hear from Tornado, but that isn’t always the case. I suppose that if he is busy it is something he can live with. I don’t get it! I have had a wet fart that went unattended for an hour or so and by the end it was like I was wearing a sand paper thong. Not very much fun at all, and not only can’t you talk about it to anyone, if you did find someone to tell, they wouldn’t have any sympathy at all. Most people would laugh.

Oh well, Tornado will soon grow out of this and probably be embarrassed when I talk about it…and I will. I should take some pictures before it is too late so that I can bribe him to take me places when he gets his licence and I lose mine. It was fun with just Tornado today and I hope to do it again.