Little Boss

My grandson, Cayde, was born about six weeks early. Weighing in at under five pounds, without a nasal bone (skeletal dysplasia) and a retina problem with one eye, he made for a scary sight with all the tubes and wires and stuff. He was still beautiful.

   Shortly after he was born, I had prostate removal surgery and was home for about a month while I recovered. It just so happened that it was when his mom was preparing to return to work and Laura Gail was preparing to retire but was still working. I jumped at the chance and volunteered to babysit. Best month of that year, even with a catheter hanging at my side. We spent a lot of time in my recliner, watching television. Specifically, the Ken Burns 1990 nine-part documentary “The Civil War”. We listened and talked about it a lot. Okay, I talked about it to him, while he made burping and cooing noises, but he enjoyed it as much as I did. We even cooked Laura Gail a few dinners, until I caught some grease on fire in one of her skillets. No babies were harmed, but the skillet didn’t survive. I don’t cook much anymore. I’m not positive, but there may be a connection there. I’m just glad I still get to babysit.

   Over the past four years Cayde Stone Bishop and I have taken many daily walks in the yard. There’s not a muddy puddle we haven’t jumped into, a car we haven’t watched and waved at as they passed the house, or a blade of grass we haven’t trod. I’ve listened to his laugh and goo-goo talk, his first words, and now he argues with me. He wins more than he loses. He truly is quite the conversationalist. He joined the music service at church. They didn’t ask, he just decided to go on stage one Sunday and sing with them. He now has a guitar to strum beside the song leader, Carl, whom he idealizes. He prays with him before they start. He told Carl “konnichiwa” this morning. It’s Japanese for “good morning”. His dad is a big anime/Japan fan, and he likes the way it sounds. He is the only “people person” on my wife’s side of the family that I’m aware of, much to my wife’s wonder. He is breaking boundaries and being his own little man. I couldn’t be prouder.

   He turns four years old on July 18th, this Friday. I’m sure he’ll bust into my house early that morning and proclaim, “Happy Birthday, Cayde!” at the top of his lungs about ten times before he looks around for his presents. And his Gigi will likely give him at least one before his party that evening when his parents get home. Because Cayde Stone Bishop is the Little Boss around here. We wouldn’t be happier any other way.

Happy Birthday, Cayde!

God bless Y’all!