As is the case with most of America’s children, my granddaughters are home from school for the time being.
I’ve written before about the pleasure of being a temporary kindergarten teacher for a class of two. I see them most days (the situation still lets us feel comfortable with that–we’re taking a lot of precautions), but my wife is normally at work. She’s a tax preparer, and, well, ‘tis the season.
Update: It was. Now she’s at home as well.
I call her Lisa, but my granddaughters call her “Nana.” It’s a common occurrence for the girls to get to our house, and before they even get to me they’re asking, “Grandpa, where’s Nana?”
I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s okay.
Today, as I’m sitting here writing this, my wife is in the kitchen with the girls. They’re practicing handwriting with a tablet app, and I love the sound. They’re giving her play-by-play of what they’re doing, their voices in a sing-song more often than not. The app’s music is playing softly, the girls’ banter is constant, and Nana’s unceasing interaction fills my heart with happiness.
The world is upside down right now, but for these minutes I’m able to set that aside.
I’m grateful, more than I can express.