Tonight, as we often do, my family went out to dinner. In this case "family" means my wife, her brother, her mother, my two sons, a daughter-in-law, and an almost 3 month old grandson.
I was watching the father of my grandson holding on to Cal, and I had to touch my son. It was to realize that he was once that small, that he couldn't even hold his head up by himself, that his diaper needed to be changed often, and all of those things that a child of less than one year has done for him.
I look at Cal and I don't see Jay. I see Cal as his own human being, and I somehow see him as a parent would; full of prospects, fresh insights, curious to behold. It's like being a parent all over again.
But, no, it's not. There are times when this 12 week old is our total focus, just as Tim and Jay were when they were babies. Nancy and I would babysit Cal anytime we are called. We know that won't last, and that is great.
I don't know whether to be sad or grateful at that thought. I do know that when Cal is 14 or 15, we'll be the excuse he uses to "hate" his parents. Because Nana Nancy and Papa Bill "love" him more. Jay won't be able to counter with his stories about how Mom and Dad treated him at that age. No way were we ever that mean to anyone.
I don't know whether to be sad or grateful at that thought.