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	new baby dads

Going Home Again: A Boy's Gift to His Grandfather
By Ralph S. Lovelidge
Web Exclusive

I am not unique; I am the father of two sons who have always been the loves of my life.

Now they are grown men, and my oldest son has given me a grandson, Alan, who has become my third love.

My son and daughter-in-law were married on a Saturday and went back to their teaching positions on Monday, with no time for a honeymoon. My son teaches the traditional school schedule, August to June, while my daughter-in-law teaches year round. So as our wedding present, my wife and I gave them a trip to Hawaii that they could use at any time. After four years, they finally scheduled the long-awaited honeymoon.

Pop, as 21-month-old Alan calls me, was the only family member who had the time to babysit. When I volunteered, it was with no trepidation. They had made the decision to go; they needed a babysitter. I am Alan's grandfather. I would do it-end of discussion!

As the time approached, friends and family gave me the usual advice, "Get plenty of sleep; you're going to need you're energy" and asked the usual questions, "What will you do with him all day?" "Are you sure you can handle this job?" Lack of trepidation had turned to apprehension! I knew I could do it; I had two sons. I had changed their diapers, given them baths, played with them, and held them when they were sick. However, I had never done these tasks for seven straight days and never by myself!

Nevertheless, I had made a promise.

I arrived two days early, so Alan could become accustomed to my presence. On the first morning, when he woke up calling "Mommy," I sneaked into his still-dim bedroom. "Pop," he said smiling at me. His face formed a pleasant question, as if he were saying, "How did you get here? I can't believe God sent me a playmate and it's you!" At that moment, I knew we were going to have a special time.

At 6:30 on the second morning, Alan and I dropped his mom and dad off at the airport and our adventure began.

Over the next seven days, we did the typical activities. I made his meals, gave him snacks, and bathed him. And then, as my son requested, we played-a lot! Everyday we went to the playground. I took him to the zoo, read to him, threw balls; we even listened to classical music. If I tried to sit on a sofa or chair; I would quickly be met with, "Get up, Pop. Play!"

We put a pop-up tent in the middle of the living room and draped blankets over coffee tables and couches for tunnels. Toys were strewn over every available foot of space. If my son could have seen the way we operated, he would have gone crazy. We did clean up our mess each night, but the tent and tunnels stayed!

Alan did catch a cold and had one down day, but his spirits remained high. After all, he had the ultimate playmate-someone who never said "no" to playing. However, as one might imagine, the experience was exhausting. When 7 o'clock came, I put him to bed and collapsed. God bless all the single parents in the world. I don't know how they do it; they all deserve a great deal of credit!

Alan's mom and dad came home early the following Sunday, with joy all around. I love to teach Alan new words, so my daughter-in-law asked what new phrases Alan had learned. I assured her that "Doggone it"; "Holy Mackerel"; "Let's Rock and Roll"; and "Oops" were the extent of my vocabulary lessons.

On my flight home I realized the most exciting part of this adventure: I had gone back in time; I had gone "home" again! This little boy had all the qualities of both his father and uncle when they were his age. I cried as I reflected on the seven days spent with my grandson. He had given me so much without even knowing it. Every morning he had called my name. He had allowed me to hold his hand as we walked, hug him whenever I wanted to, pull him to my chest when we was sick, and give him a good night kiss. We had eaten ice cream, written with chalk on the sidewalk, attempted to fly a kite (not recommended at 21 months), and blown bubbles until my jaw ached. How quickly seven days had passed.

Throughout my life, I have tried to glean everything good from my family and use it in my relationships. I now see that my father, Uncle Bill, and grandfather taught me how to fill these roles for my own sons, nephews, and grandson. And the wonderful women in my life- my mother, aunts, and grandmother-demonstrated how to give love, unequivocally. Being with Alan helped me to remember how deeply I cherish them all.

Ralph Lovelidge and his wife, Melody, have two sons, Ralph IV and Brett. Alan John Lovelidge is the son of the former. The author and his wife live in Hummelstown, Pennsylvania.