The New Lingo of the Young

The Jazzman and I talk about possibilities, and we knew that step one was slowly and methodically, without any rejection being involved, moving les bebes's venue for sleepovers from my bedroom to the guest room. I had broached that subject with them a couple of times ("Wouldn't you like to …") with no expression of interest on their part. They've been sleeping with Grandma for years. Old habits die hard.

Last night's plan was for Ridley to have her own sleepover with me, and Boston to have a night at home alone with his parents. I was thinking it might be easier to convince her to move across the hall by herself, and had started introducing that opportunity. As we were leaving Barnes & Noble after picking up a couple of books for the Oakland to donate to First Book, he suddenly decided he wanted to have the normal sleepover with me. We began talking about the guest room and how much fun it might be to have their own room and not have to sleep with Grandma. Lo and behold, they agreed. It sounded like fun.

When we got home, Ridley and I dismantled her little twin bed and moved it into the guest room. (That girl loves to work!) As I haven't procured the box spring for Boston's bed yet, I put the new mattress for him on the floor and made it up with random sheets. He declared where he wanted it placed in the bedroom, and pretty soon they were both snuggled down in their beds and we were doing our ritualistic "What was the best part of your day?".

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When Scott and Tyler were little, I always wanted them to go to sleep remembering good things rather than bad things. My theory was that if they went to sleep thinking happy thoughts, they'd wake up thinking happy thoughts. As soon as they could talk and understand my question, I began asking them every night what the best part of their day way. This practice has continued with the grandchildren. It's actually my favorite part of the day!
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I turned out the light, went back to my bedroom, and heard them talking for twenty minutes until Ridley repeatedly begged, "Please be quiet so I can go to sleep." I went back in to admonish Boston to respect her wishes, and pretty soon all was quiet.

This morning I was sitting [alone] in my bed, sharing a couple of Good Morning texts with the Jazzman, when Boston came padding in and hopped up in bed with me. He took over my phone and was navigating to Amazon when another text came in from Jazzman. I took the phone back to text Jazzman that I was no longer in control of the phone, when Boston said, "Type 'JSYK Boston has the phone'." I questioned, "JSYK?" Boston explained, "Just so you know." (I wanted to laugh uproariously, but stifled my delight at his preciousness.) I started typing "JSYK", but the iPhone corrected it to "Jsyk". Boston, watching over my shoulder, said, "No. Put it in all capitals. And put a period at the end so he'll know that it stands for something."

Now he's sitting next to me, adding things to his Amazon wish list, singing the theme to Star Wars.

My grandchildren are a constant source of joy and delight to me. Whatever language they speak.

(And now his song has changed to "The Pink Panther." Quite a repertoire he has!)

(By the way, the photo above? Ridley is asleep in that bed, in her best helicopter fashion.)