Wednesday, August 13, 2008 - 218 N. Locust St. - Carlisle, KY - 859-289-6425

Now that our oldest two have left the nest, at least for now, and our youngest is about to start high school, I have discovered that I am particularly susceptible to a strange mental ailment. Everything will be going along just find and all of a sudden I’ll start acting strangely.

I might be walking down an aisle at the grocery store, just like everybody else. Something will catch my eye and the next thing you know, out of the blue I’ll start making funny faces. Either that or I’ll crouch down behind Cindy so I’m mostly hidden and start peeking over her shoulder.

It even happens in Church. I’ll be sitting there listening to the sermon when I see something out of the corner of my eye. I’ll grab a hymnal and hold it up to my face, and then start lowering it down slowly until I can see again. As soon as I spot the object, the hymnal pops back up again, only to start its slow descent.

This kind of behavior must look very strange to anyone who sees me and it’s probably embarrassing to the rest of my family, but I don’t seem to be able to control it.

It doesn’t happen all the time. I might go days without an outbreak. It turns out that these unusual symptoms only appear when I am within about 10 feet of a little kid. Whenever I get near one of them, it’s like I lose control of my brain and temporary insanity sets in.

It turns out that I have a heart condition called “Grandpa-itis.” It’s a fairly common condition in middle-aged men. A hole develops in the heart that can only be filled by a grandchild’s laughter.

The problem is: I don’t have any grandchildren of my own – at least, not yet. The only thing that provides any relief for my ailment is to practice on other people’s children.

My newest best-buddy is Joshua Knotts, who just celebrated his first birthday. Every time his parents see me, they lean over and whisper to him, “Joshua, here comes your friend!” His eyes light up and he starts looking around until he sees me, and then he holds up his arms for me to pick him up.

As soon as he’s in my arms, Joshua starts our first game: He pushes my glasses out of the way and gently pokes my eyelid and I say “Eye!” Then it’s the nose, the ear, the chin, or the cheek.

This goes on for a couple of rounds until Joshua suddenly twists halfway around in my arms and points somewhere off behind him. This marks the start of our next game. Whenever Joshua points, I’ll take several extra-bouncy steps in that direction, stop and then ask “Which way?” He’ll think for a second then point in a new direction and off we go with Joshua giggling with delight - to my heart’s content.

Jonathan, a 7-year-old with Down’s syndrome is another one of my pals. Doctors also say he has a mild form of autism, adding to his behavioral problems. But I know one of Jonathan’s secrets – he loves to sing. I’ll get him to sit down on the floor facing me, holding on to each other’s wrists and gently see-sawing back and forth (another one of his favorite things) and quietly singing.

After a few minutes of rocking, Jonathan crawls into my lap and holds up his hands so we can sing, “Ten little Indians,” or “This Little Pig went to Market.” Not only does this have a calming effect on Jonathan, I get tremendous satisfaction from being able to reach through the clouds that surround his little mind and make a connection with the precious soul inside.

This Grampa-itis forces me to take on even the most difficult challenges, like one 5-year-old girl whose name I will not mention – to protect the identity of the little monster. During Sunday school, running around and bothering other children. When she ran past me, I pulled her up onto my lap, held her hands in mine to encourage her to be still while I tried to ask her some questions. She bent over and bit my hand. Before I could act on my impression to bite her back, I set her back down and told her to go see her mommy.

But the burgeoning Grandpa inside me couldn’t just walk away from a challenge like that. I had to find a way into this little girl’s heart. I watched her from a safe distance until I discovered that she is usually pretending to be something else, like a ferocious dinosaur – or as she says, “an eat-meater.”

The next time I saw her stomping around, I bent over to her level and asked her what kind of dinosaur she was. She clawed at my face with one hand while digging her fingernails into the back of my hand with the other. Ignoring her behavior, I repeated the question. She growled, “I’m a raptor!”

“And what kinds of things do raptors eat?” I asked.

She snapped back at me, “Flying dinosaurs, like Pterodactyls!”

“Oh no!” I said with panicked look on my face, “That’s what I am!” I stood up and started flapping my arms, pretending like I was trying to get away from her, moving just fast enough to just barely keep away from those dangerous talons.

That was it! I had made a connection. She’s still a holy terror, but at least now she gives me a friendly smile before she tries to bite me.

Hopefully, I’ll only have to wait (im)-patiently a few more years to become a real-live Grandpa. Until then, I hope nobody minds me practicing with their kids.

Signing out from Carlisle
Steve Scalf

* Steve Scalf is a member of the U.S. Military. Reach him at slscalf@msn.com.