Today is the muppets three-month birthday. To celebrate, I picked up my dad from the airport this morning so he could meet the muppets (really just a coincidence).
GrampaTavo’s moniker is a play on the name his nephew used many years ago. When he couldn’t pronounce the mouthful “Gustavo,” he instinctually shortened it to Uncle Stavo. This seemed like a good grandfather name as well – especially for one married to a former speech pathologist who understood the difficulty youngsters have pronouncing longer names with hard sounds.
GrampaTavo walked in the door and immediately began laughing. “Oleee sheet…” [insert Italian accent to fully comprehend his comments] he kept repeating. Even though he’s been regaled with tales of the boys – from their adventures in the NICU to Gramma J’s stories about her “cutie pies” – his grandsons still weren’t completely real to him because he’d never met them.
Jon was holding Logan; he offered to let GrampaTavo hold him. “Oh no no no,” he waved us away. Instead he gently kissed the top of his head. Then, after a brief hunger meltdown, we once again encouraged GrampaTavo hold one of the little guys. He tentatively reached out and cradled Logan in his arms. That’s when he began to cry. It was officially real.
With today’s visit, all of the grandparents have met the next generation of precious cargo. And with all four grandparents, the only thing to say is: Lucky muppets.
Grandma Nancy was the first to meet the muppets. The afternoon Logan came home Jon called his mom. She initially worried that she would be intruding on our new little family life. After being reassured that we truly wanted her to come over (Jon and I were exceedingly excited to introduce our little dudes to our family after 73 days in the hospital. We were (and still are) very proud parents), she acquiesced and arrived at our house nanoseconds after hanging up.
She squealed. Then she snuggled. We’re lucky enough that she lives close enough to get her fill of daily snuggles. As the boys get older and become more of a handful, I think it will be a wonderful idea to encourage grandmotherly assistance by bribing her with promises of loving snuggles.
Gramma J was the next to arrive. When I came downstairs to greet her, I found her on the couch rocking Logan. She looked up and grinned, “Look what I have!” For the next week Gramma J could be found pacing back and forth in our living room with one of two very content muppets happily sleeping in her arms. When it came time for her to depart and return to her SoCal existence there was a great deal of pouting – and not on the part of the adjusted-age newborns. Sadly, Skype just isn’t the same.
Just like GrampaTavo, Grandpa Gary teared up when he met the muppets. After holding both boys for a bit, he walked over and hugged me. I asked him if he was doing all right. His only response was a squeak. I could only laugh when he later thanked us for giving him grandchildren. Believe me – the pleasure is ours.
We’ve been told that even though a parent’s love for their child cannot be described, a grandparent’s emotions are doubled when they meet the next generation. These little ones are their babies’ babies. And as a parent, you constantly worry (from three-minutes to thirty-years old and more). As a grandparent, they can simply sit back and enjoy the awesomeness of the tiny new lives.
Caden and Logan are now fully prepared to be spoiled silly by their grandparents. And all of us are looking forward to having the muppets meet the fourth generation. G.G. – we can’t wait to have you hug the boys!