Charlie and Her Great Grandpa Tom

Grammakate holds Charlie, January 31, 2010, Charlie's first day home. (Photo by Papa-Razzi Greg)

A short while ago, I read a book by Blair Underwood (yes, the guy from LA Law) about some amazing things that have been said by children...Things like, "Yes, I knew my grandma...She took care of me before I came here." I loved the book; it gave me some wonderful goose-bump moments.

I had one of those goose-bump moments with Charlie yesterday...

I had gone over to Meagan and Joe's in the afternoon to take care of Charlie so Meagan could take a nap with both eyes closed, her ears set on "silent." (Of course she will soon learn that mothers can never really do that; meanwhile, I'm more than happy to have the job!)

For about 30 minutes, Charlie was awake and alert -- the most awake that I have yet seen her. I sat cradling her head in my hands and gazing into her wise little face, trying to get some kind of a handle on what it must be like for her...She's safe at home now, with a devoted mother and father and two reluctant feline siblings; but she has yet to realize that this is her kingdom, where she will rule with complete sovereignty!

Meagan actually was able to doze, and Charlie eventually began to fuss. (Oh! Maybe she does know who rules!) Trying to buy Mommy a little more time, I nuzzled my granddaughter into my neck and spoke softly to her as we strode about the kingdom.

That didn't actually work, so I attempted a song...Unfortunately I couldn't remember what I used to sing to my own babies. I sat back down with her, thinking I might try reason, when something came to me...Ahh-ah. Ahh-ah. Ahh-ah-ahh-ah-ahh-ah. My dad sang that. I guess it was singing. All of us kids and our kids and the other kids he sang it to thought it was singing. It had always worked for him, and it usually worked for me whenever I used it. I tried it on Charlie as I watched her scrunch her face up for a yell.

She stopped fussing. She stopped moving. And she turned her head to the side as if she were looking for someone. I got chills. In that instant, I had a vision of Great Grandpa Tom walking little Charlie around Heaven, humming his little sing-song ditty for her.

I miss you Dad. I wish you and Mom were here now so we could share Charlotte with you!