Of Haystacks Calhoun and Tag Teams

 It was 3 against 1. The 3 of us never stood a chance.

The last 4 days, my son, wife and I were privileged to be in charge of the care of a soon to be 4 year old. Well, in charge is not really an accurate term. More like holding on for dear life.

Parenting, or in this case, uncleing and grandparenting is definitely not for the weak of heart or mind. There is good reason to leave this responsibility to the people who first began the sequence of events leading to this moment.

I used to watch tag team wrestling when I was growing up. You know, one person getting the poo kicked out of him or her, crawling to the edge of the mat and, with the last possible ounce of life remaining, barely be in fingertip contact with their partner who then rushes to the rescue. That, in essence, is what a date with a little being of endless energy is like. Except harder.

Did you ever fake like you have to go to the bathroom just to try to catch your breath? But has the pitter patter of little feet followed almost immediately in your path and the door swung open before you have even taken up residence in your point of refuge?

I absolutely adore my granddaughter. She is all the superlatives you can gather up and put on a platter. Every day with her is sunshine. But even the sun has to rest, which is why it invented clouds and catnaps.

Don't get me wrong. She can entertain herself for long stretches, singing songs, playing with her toys, coloring, hopscotching. I am getting tired just writing this list. But even in her solitary times, the 3 of us were on call, at the ready, much like "Chase is on the case." Next activity but the next thought away.

It is like running a marathon, taking a sip of water and heading back out for another 26 miles 185 yards. While her mind and body are growing by the minute, mine are shrinking. Over the last few days I have been swimming more than I have since I was in summer camp, been on several play dates, scurried around more than one playground, been wholly unable to locate the hider in hide and seek, biked, hiked, drawn my letters and numbers, made several beautiful colored drawings for my son, daughter or son in law, learned my standing long jump is still pretty darn good, watched cows, eaten plenty of pizza and ice cream (at least we have identical taste in food), been entertained by Bluey (if you have not yet been introduced to her, run directly to Disney Plus immediately), read a lot of bedtime stories and generally been hugged and kissed a bunch. Which is absolutely the only thing I ever need to do all this and whatever else is asked of me, again and again, for as long as she allows.

Yesterday afternoon, our daughter arrived. Along with the 1 year old version of the soon to be 4 year old. The 1 year old making what we did look like child's play as he tried to set a land speed record for crawling and finding some way to wreak temporary  havoc.

How did my wife and I ever survive bringing up 2 young children? And how will our daughter ever remain intact until the cavalry, in the form of her husband, arrives later today to be her tag team partner?

If memory serves, Haystacks Calhoun weighed about 600 pounds and, maybe only by way of apocryphal recollection, sometimes fought alone against a tag team duo of highly skilled opponents in the ring. 

I only know for certain he never would have stood a chance in hell against my grandkids.