Crumb – Knock Knock


A houseful descended on us this weekend. My daughter’s husband is a military man and was called on by president Biden to leave home for a couple weeks. I never know where he goes or what he does, nor do I ask. It’s like I told my gangster buddy once after the FBI called looking for him: I need a federal clearance for work, and I don’t need the FBI mucking it up. I don’t want to lie, so it’s easier if you never tell me anything. So be it.

Anyway, since my son-in-law is out of town, Daughter 2 decides to visit with her bairns. She and the kids fly from the West Coast to the east and are picked up by Daughter 1 and husband who then wait for Wife 1 to pick her up. Now there are four so-called adults and six semi-behaved children. It might get loud.

Wife 1 loads the lot into her van and drives south to greet Daughter 3 and her brood. Now there are 7 adults and 9 kids. What fun. They hang around for a few days eating BBQ and reminiscing about the good ol’ days, and then come to my house for a quick weekend. Son 2 and daughter-in-law also show, and a merry time is had by all. 

If you can follow that you’re either a math genius or have six fingers on each hand…

Grandpa – me – got roped into a neverending game of knock-knock with every kid of speaking age. Jokes got sillier and sillier, and grandpa was doing his best to laugh instead of moan as the weekend wore on and tiredness set in on everyone.

Time for goodbyes

After food and walks and reading and joking and feeding the animals forty times, kids and parents were loaded back into cars, and we said goodbyes. Before I shut the car door, though, I heard a last peep from the eight-year-old.

“Grandpa,” she said. “Knock knock.”

“Ugh.” I thought I’d escaped the last joke, but no. “Who’s there?” I said, like Frankenstein dragging his feet.

“I love you so much Grandpa, and don’t want to leave you.”

“I love you too, honey. I love you all,” I said to three cars, arms outstretched. Heck, it was such a wonderful moment I might have loved Wife 1 again. I looked at the eight-year-old, and she was staring at me and laughing, thrilled that she finally bettered the old man, left now, almost crying.




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