Humor

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In life, a person may choose to remember many wonderful experiences. High on this list, at least in my opinion, are having the grandchildren spend the night.

I still cherish fond memories of "spending the night" at my grandparents' house. Whenever I think of my grandmother, I think of the fabulous goodies I enjoyed at her home.

Nobody can compare with grandmother's apple pie. I dare anyone to find a better apple pie. Even in thinking about it, I can still remember the aroma of her hot apple pie coming from the oven.

Then there was my grandfather, that kindly old gentleman who lived at grandma's house and was always full of fun. Grandma used to call it "pure devilment," but we grandchildren delighted in his pureness, which he seemed to have plenty of when we visited.

I remember he allowed the grandchildren to slide down grandmother's forbidden banister. Whenever grandmother caught us, he would always intervene and take the heat for us and he always did it with a sly grin on his face.

He was fulfilling an important function in the lives of his grandchildren.

Now, I'm the grandfather and I shoulder this responsibility as seriously as my grandfather before me and his grandfather before him. It is a wonderful and delicious tradition I hope to pass on to future grandfathers.

Believe me, the house is never the same when the grandchildren "spend the night."

When I got home Friday afternoon, the Mistress of the Parsonage greeted me with, "Did you remember that the grandchildren will be spending the night with us?"

Oh, boy. I had forgotten.

The thought of those grandchildren brought a smile to my weary face. Nothing in the world can change the plans for a quiet evening at home like two grandchildren. We do not call them "grand" for nothing.

"When will they get here?" I asked, trying to figure out how much time I had to shower and get ready for the invasion.

If the grandchildren are coming for supper that means one thing: macaroni and cheese and hot dogs with a generous side of pickles, not to mention the bowls of ice cream drowning in gallons of creamy hot fudge.

While still in my quiet muse, the front doorbell rang once and then the door exploded with excited greetings as both grandchildren told me that they had come to ''spend the night.''

Spending the night at grandma and grandpa's house is one of the great adventures in a young child's life. No child should ever grow up without this crucial rite of passage.

For one thing, the rules are different. Nobody has to finish everything on the plate (especially the broccoli), and candy? Well, that is a given. As long as grandma does not find out.

The important thing about having grandchildren "spend the night" is how much a person can learn from the experience. It is an important opportunity to teach the next generation some important values that have helped shape my life down through the years.

The last time the grandchildren visited, we all learned a very important lesson. So, all the fuss was well worth the lesson taught. Well, almost. I'm still trying to convince myself of that.

Everything went along as usual. There was only one minor disagreement. I say "minor" because both grandchildren are under age.

The slight dispute fell along the lines of what we were going to have for supper.

I want to say right here that I was not party to the dispute. As usual, I was merely an observer of the entire incident, which is confusing as to why I ended up with all the blame.

Grandma had prepared the macaroni and cheese but the minor faction had designs on pizza. Either way, I would have been happy.

I have learned that no matter how many adults are present, two grandchildren always represent a majority. Grandma was not about to budge, and neither were the tiny insistent visitors.

Nothing is quite as final as the mind of a grandchild when it is set on pizza. Grandfathers know this, but grandmothers somehow do not. I stayed out of the discussion and only smiled as the frustrated grandmother attempted to change the minds of her grandchildren.

I made two mistakes which I regretted almost immediately.

The first one I should have known better. I looked at my wife and smiled. You know, one of those smiles that says, "You're in trouble and I'm not. Ha. Ha."

As soon as I did it, I knew I was not only wrong but also in trouble.

The second mistake was an innocent one. I left the room to go to the bathroom.

There are times when you have to go and then there are times when you better not. This was of the latter, but I discovered it too late.

Returning from the bathroom, I noticed everything was quiet. Silly me, I thought that grandmother had won another battle and she settled the menu issue, and macaroni and cheese would be the fare for the evening repast.

Heading for my chair in the living room, I noticed my grandson talking on the telephone. I thought nothing of it until I heard him say, "Yes, this is an emergency. I wanna order a pizza."

Then with that beguiling innocence possessed by all grandchildren, he looked at me and said, "Here grandpa. Tell her we want pizza."

How do you explain to the emergency operator that it is not a real emergency and that I have not lost control of my grandchildren?

Fortunately for me, she graciously brought me up to speed on the issue and informed me, in no uncertain terms, that "911" is not for ordering pizza.

Knowing what constitutes a real emergency is important. More important is knowing who to call in that emergency.

The Bible tells us who we may call in times of trouble. "And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." (Psalms 50:15 KJV.)

For any emergency, call upon the Lord. You won't be disappointed.

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