A-Bliss-ia

My perfect granddaughter is named Alysia.  When ever we get to spend time with her, we call it Grandparent Bliss and recently we got to spend a whole weekend with her in Rhode Island where she lives with her mom.

We have been fortunate to have her at our house the last two summers.  Living in a rural area, our little LA glitter bomb relishes the snakes in our garden, learning archery with Grandpa, riding in the lawnmower cart, and making dandelion chain necklaces.  She loves being outdoors and has the most creative spirit--she made a fishing line from long grass and a stick!

When we picked Alyisa up at her after-school day care, we asked what she wanted to do during our time together.  Being adults we were thinking museums, movies, historical experiences, and other various learning opportunities.  Alysia's answer:  "Playgrounds, I want to go to playgrounds."

Our GPS listed parks, so we headed to the nearest.  Turned out to be a historical site with a walking path and one room school house.  Our journey took us over logs and hopping off benches, balancing on a stone  wall and collecting sticks.  It was perfect. 

The Elizabeth Gray Garden and Paradise School






But, alas, there was no playground equipment, so how could Alysia show us her new monkey bar tricks or her perfected forward roll?  And so we continued looking for other parks. 

Next, we found an old, old playground with a cement slide.  Matt, having raised all boys, told Alysia she would love the hard ride down.  She didn't.  I think we were at that "playground" around five minutes.   We also found a nice neighborhood playground where Matt thrilled the kids with fast spins on the old fashioned merry go round and Alysia impressed us with forward rolls and balance beam work.   We headed to the beach.  Our fearless granddaughter was ready to jump off the seawall onto a tiny rock-filled piece of sand.  Grandpa reviewed the concept of "sneaker waves" which left Alysia unimpressed.  Wanting to preserve her life, we headed for pizza and ice cream.  She was "starved to death" as was evident from the meal she devoured.  Next, it was off to find Walmart and pick up some toys for the motel room.  Deep decision making behind us we left with cards, a jigsaw puzzle, some plastic thing for her wheeler- ja -bob, and a coloring book.  None of this was opened as after Grandpa read the bedtime story we all fell quickly to sleep from playground overload. 

Alas, a new day and more playgrounds to explore.  Saturday started with a trip to IHOP for the making of a girl-faced pancake.  Matt was determined to explore Fort Adams.  There we did a one and 1/2 mile seawall walk; the fort having started its last tour of the day, we settled for the walk around.  Alysia hopped along finding treasures and asking if it would ever end.  I think the frozen lemonade grandpa bought made it all worth it.
And more playgrounds on Sunday.

We hit the Y playground where our adventurous girl climbed the rock wall and slipped on the monkey bars.  Ouch!  But we survived that to munch down a McDonalds happy meal, by request of course.  We actually repeated the playground visit by the IHOP as it's one of Alysia's favorites.  Turns out one of her friends was there; she is a friend seeker, everywhere, anywhere...a social butterfly much like her daddy. 

At Dunkin Donut we stumbled upon the Police Parade.  Matt loves the bagpipes and Alysia and I found a seat along the curb to watch the seemingly endless display of vehicles and bands.  We bought her a pony and watched as it became real in her hands--real like the Velveteen Rabbit, loved in the hands of a little girl.  

Sunday was bittersweet as we knew our time was quickly drawing to an end.  At the beach Matt and I found some lobster to satisfy our seafood desire.  Alysia opted for a hamburger but enjoyed watching the lobsters in the tank.  Tears began to flow and our girl shared missing us...even before we were gone.  Heart wrenching to leave a little girl with tears welled in big blue eyes.

Before this trip to Rhode Island, I had the opportunity to visit our grandson Riley in Tulsa.  Funny, but we ended up at the park/playground as well.  He was not interested in the playground equipment at all; in fact, I thought he was just going to sit.  A rain-made pond gathering at the end of the parking lot changed  the scene.  We spent hours together cracking open the pecans he collected along the walk to the park.  They made perfect  boat hulls.    The puddle of water became a lake, the leaf sails took wind, a pirate war emerged.  I watched his crafty hands, marveled at his quick imagination, and traveled back in time at the sounds coming from the pecan gun boats.  The spittle-boom sounds created from a little boy's guns transformed me.  At some point,  I swear Riley  morphed into his dad and I was reminded of another little boy's pretending.  

Being a grandparent is bliss. It takes  shape in the simplest of things: playgrounds, pancakes, pretend--it doesn't matter.  It is just the moments, holding on to them for dear life.  Because this time, you are sure they will pass quickly and you know they will never come again. 

Three and four quickly became seven and eight