is grampa there?

I cannot tell you how many times a day we have the following conversation (or a similar version) in our house:

Momma, can I call grampa?

What do you want to talk about?

I want to tell him about my band-aid.

You're not wearing a band-aid.

Yeah, but you know that one time, when I got a band-aid because I had an owie?  And it was yight here on my finger.  But then it fell off.  And I got another band-aid because the first one fell off.

That was a long time ago.

Yeah, but I want to tell Grampa that I lost that band-aid, but I still had an owie.  It was yight here.  He wants to see it.

Grampa can't see your owies.

I will tell him about that one time when I got an owie and I had a band-aid.  It was yight here, momma.  Do you remember when I got that band-aid?  It fell off.  But I got a new one.  I got a new one because I had an owie.

Well, grampa is at work right now. 

Can I call him later?

Yes.

Is it later?

No.

Momma, do you remember that one time when I got an owie and I had to put a band-aid yight here....

Oh for goodness sakes, yes, call Grandpa and tell him about it!

this is the look I get when his voicemail picks up because (like I said) he's at work

my poor mom!  if she answers the phone, Peach's first question is always, "Is grampa there?"

although she loves my mom, for some reason, it is always grampa that she wants to chat the day away with.

i keep telling my mom that tulip is gonna' be a grandma's girl :)

when Peach finally does get my dad on the line, you should hear her go

stopping only to breathe (and sometimes I need to remind her to do even that) she goes on and on about nothing in particular, "showing" him things around the house by going up to those items and holding the phone near them

my dad is so good to love her long-distance by listening to her ramblings and asking questions about all her stories.

half the time he can't even make out what she's saying, but he faithfully stays on the line until the kisses start 

(which is her way of signing off)

she holds the phone up to her face and kisses it three or four times - big wet smooches followed by "I yove you, grampa"

this makes me all melty inside and i instantly forgive her for the sad state of my phone

and as she hands me the phone, i look in her eyes and see that she's nice and full - 

full of good conversation and a listening ear

full of the confidence that builds in a little heart when someone thinks that her words are important

and I remember my grandfathers doing the same for me when I was small enough to fit in their laps.

they listened to my endless chatter as if nothing else mattered

 in fact, my dad's dad used to call me "mag-pie" and "chatterbox"

come to think of it...sometimes he still does

i guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree

but what really matters is that once upon a time, someone listened to me.  made me feel like i had something worth saying.  helped me stand a little taller.

and it means everything to me that we've got people on both sides of our family who are doing the same for our girls.

listening

reading stories

lighting up when they come into a room

looking in the eyes

investing

its the little things that change the world.

one child at a time.

thanks, dad.