My Grandma, The Bug

I've been in Virginia for the past ten days, enjoying my time with my son, Greg, and his three children, Taylor, Kaden, and Zac, while his wife, Michelle, was in Illinois, working at building their new business, FroYo Creations in Bourbonnais, IL.

My grandchildren are the cheapest forms of entertainment I know (as you might have surmised from some of my other blogs), and once again I find myself having to relate yet another occurrence of "How do they come up with these things?"

Having been away from Audrey and Nolan, I was looking forward to seeing them again. Audrey and Nolan are pictured here in dress-up on the day they performed their own version of American Idol while their mom, Brittney, and I attempted to watch the show in front of them. You can read about that day HERE.

But getting back to the Grandma plays a bug story (which is a very short story, by the way), here's what happened shortly after I came home yesterday:

I was unpacking my suitcases when Nolan came into my bedroom swatting around a hockey stick. Just as I turned around to see it, he said, "Hey, Grandma, pretend you're a bug!"

Trying to Watch American Idol With Two Spinning Children

Every Tuesday, because my daughter Brittney is home from work, we watch taped episodes of American Idol that we missed from the week before. On Tuesday night, another episode of American Idol appears, so we have to get ourselves updated on the progress of the show in order to watch the new one on time.

But the way we have to watch the show is probably somewhat different from the way everybody else watches the show. Because between my television set and my couch spin two small children who sing, dance, and put on their own American Idol auditions. Audrey and Nolan also love making themselves dizzy repeatedly and flopping to the floor in front of us.

You might think I live in a one room apartment where they have no other place to play, but you would be wrong. My mobile home has a living room, a dining room, a family room, and four bedrooms. My living room, where my television is located, is a good size. Of all the places in my home, the one place the kids decide to dance, sing, and spin out of control, is located between the television set and the couch where my daughter and I sit to watch American Idol.

So last Tuesday, while I was watching an episode from the week before, instead of repeatedly asking the kids to perform their little antics in another room, I watched them instead of American Idol.

Nolan (2.5 years old) held two tiny books in one hand and one tiny book in his other hand as he held out his arms and stared at the one book while he spun round and round. When he could no longer stand, he fell to the floor and watched the room spin around him. Audrey (5) spun faster than her brother and fell to the floor more quickly. Sometimes they fell on top of each other and laughed uproariously when that happened.

I watched my daughter move her head from one side to the other as she attempted to watch American Idol around her children, oblivious to the fact that they were spinning out of control in front of her. My grandchildren were unaware that I was watching them.

At this point I had to ask myself to define entertainment. After all, I was quite amused that my grandchildren were performing acrobatics in the very spot that blocked our view to the television set, and I was equally entertained by American Idol.

I felt as if I were at my own home circus. Where else could I be doubly entertained?

(photo is of Audrey and Nolan at Christmastime wearing their SpongeBob pajamas)