It's lovely having grandkids, really it is. They are so enthusiastic and so darned helpful. I love being helped to hang out the washing, to make pikelets, to pick peas in the vege garden, to make the beds, to feed the horses, it makes it all so much ... longer.
Just a trip to the back gate to bring the horses in for the night can take on epic proportions.
First try to sneak out without grandkids. This can involve pretending you're just going to the toilet and will be back soon (often a fail as two-year-olds have a fascination with the loo) or you can try distracting them with "ooh look is that a tractor going down the road?" as you head for the back door. It won't work. Grandkids' radar can pick up the whisper of a grandparent putting on outdoor footwear from three rooms away.
"I'm coming to help," they yell even before they know what they are coming to help with. They know that they are invaluable, no matter what task you've got planned. So you resign yourself to finding four small gumboots and waiting for two small persons to put them on, because mighty helpers don't need you to put their gumboots on for them. And there are no wrong feet when it comes to a four-year-old's gumboots. Not unless you want to spend another five minutes getting ready.
Not that the two-year-old needs gumboots. Because he expects to be carried. Coming to help does not include walking. Not until you get to the mud. The mud is in the ditch that needs to be crossed to get to the back gate. That's when both grandkids decide they need to walk. It's also the exact time I decide they both have to be carried. Too many times I have had to retrace my steps to retrieve tiny gumboots that have stayed embedded in the mire while the tiny owners have continued on in their socks. That gets me in trouble with their mother. Not that it's easy carrying two protesting preschoolers at once, especially when the added weight sinks me into the mud and makes my own gumboots try to stay behind.
