When Papa is around and the topic is politics (or religion or history or sports or any number of things), it can be hard to get a word in. When Papa is around with the Boy, it’s easy to get a word in, but it’s hard to pry the Boy out of Papa’s arms.
From the beginning of any visit, Nana just waits patiently, often pretending to be content to look on as Papa burps, rocks, cuddles, and coos with the Boy. When Nana finally gets to hold him, Papa is eager to “help” by taking him back. Let Nana sit just so and pinch a nerve or find her leg slightly uncomfortable and make any kind of sound that even vaguely hints at discomfort, and Papa is ready.
“You okay? You want me to take him?”
He’s like a kid with a new toy. An expensive new toy. That cries. And passes gas. And gets fussy for no apparent reason. And then coos to sooth everyone’s nerves.
“If I’d known being a grandfather was so much fun…” he often begins the now-familiar joke.