Can it really be true, as I found myself asking the other night, that grandkids are the only things left in the world today that are not overrated? Can this be?
Let’s look at some other supposedly sublime experiences to determine if they meet the standard:
A stroll on the beach in the moonlight?
Overrated. The sand is cold and you can't see what you're stepping on – was that a crab? – and the laughter from the patio bar nearby makes you realize you could be drinking a Mojito now if you hadn't agreed to this unending "stroll."
Learning an exotic foreign language?
Overrated. You have to fly 5,000 miles – probably in coach, next to someone who just found out how to use a cell phone on a plane – to find someone else who speaks it, and that person will just want to practice their English on you anyway.
Success?
Not really that great. It's like standing around on the top of the mountain, in the freezing cold and wind. Nobody stays up there for more than a minute, because, hey, what are you going to do, play chess on top on the top of Kilimanjaro?! It was the effort to get up there, feeling the bond with the person above you on the rope, that made you feel alive.
Money?
Extremely handy if you don’t have enough of it, but after you do, what are you going to do with it all, really? Buy spiffier glasses, faster cars, a long gravel driveway, and a locked gate? Besides, you'll feel silly ever going to garage sales again if you have gobs of money, and you know how much you love garage sales. . .
Nature?
Too much green. Hard to get a cell phone signal. And you have to pee behind a tree.
Falling in love?
It feels so great! (At first.) But how long can you fall before you hit the ground, and find yourself sitting across the kitchen table from someone who chews like that and makes you pay the entire heat bill because he or she personally doesn't get cold.
. . . being a grandparent.
The only thing in the world that is not overrated. A satisfaction that literally grows. My two girls, age six and eight, are asleep upstairs right now. Last night we had a Nerf gun battle that raged through the house. This morning I found green darts sticking to the curtains, the bathroom sink, and my sweatpants. And the girls heelie everywhere now ("heelies," all the rage with the elementary-school set, are those shoes with a wheel at the back) so I recently had a psychotic break and ordered a pair for myself. Couldn’t go two inches on them! But it was worth it for the hour of patient instruction I received from Maggie and Ryan on the sidewalk yesterday.
I'm about to wake them up at (Nerf) gunpoint. This will never get old.
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