How to get off to the right start with your new grandchild
More than four years ago, I became a grandfather. Later this year, I’ll become a grandfather again. The question is, what have I learned from my first stint in this role that I should apply to my second go-round?
For starters, avoid asking your future grandson if he likes grandma better than he does you. You’re only asking for trouble and are guaranteed to hate the answer. Just posing this question will reflect poorly on your judgment as a senior.
Hold off on teaching him how to dribble a basketball, pitch a baseball, catch a football, kick a soccer ball or throw a right cross. He should probably learn to walk first. You can always get him a sports agent after he turns 5.
Feel free to tell him he’s beautiful. Do this if only for the very sound reason that it probably happens to be objectively true. But also remember to tell him he’s smart, not to mention all-around decent, socially adept and spiritually sound as well.
Develop a business plan to present to him, preferably via Powerpoint. He will be eager to hear the specifics on how — and just how much — you plan to invest in his future. Make sure your recommendations are solid. Will you, for example, be springing for a new car on his 18th birthday? His pursuit of a doctorate in macroeconomics? A wedding in St. Peter’s Basilica? Be prepared, if challenged, to defend your numbers.
Refrain from recounting your entire family history to him right away. Interested as he may later be in hearing how much you liked watching cheerleaders in action and disliked taking chemistry in high school, it’s probably much too soon for him to absorb any of it, let alone care. You can always fill in the details after he turns 1.
Declare from the outset that you’re never going to be the sort of overbearing grandparent who drones on about how Tiger Woods appeared on television practicing his golf swing at age 2 and Pablo Picasso reportedly started drawing pictures even before he could speak and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed his first symphony at 8. And it would just be plain silly for him to imagine that you would ever push his parents to hire a violin tutor while he’s still in preschool.
In this vein, make sure you establish that he should grow up at his own pace, following his own organic timetable, despite the harsh reality that he’s inheriting a highly competitive landscape, especially if you’re talking toddlers.
Still, you might gently hint to him how the crib is actually the perfect place to peruse Marcel Proust, get the hang of trigonometry theorems and practice conjugating verbs in Latin. Or the stroller, for that matter. In due course, at any rate, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to give him pep talks about fast-tracking his career ambitions.
In sum, whatever you do, keep it simple. No need, really, for you to hyper accelerate your expectations and join the growing worldwide conspiracy to end childhood — and start adulthood — before either should happen. A case can probably be made, if you look close enough, that childhood should never be hurried, and even that it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience, over all too soon and impossible ever to fully recapture.
Maybe your agenda for the next few years should be to let him blow bubbles and make silly faces at Grandpa and pretend his dinosaur toys can talk to each other. For now, if you really want to say everything that you should say to introduce yourself, just pick him up in your arms, look him straight in the eyes and kiss him on both cheeks. He’ll get the message loud and clear.
Medical school will just have to wait.