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Holding Grandma's Hand

Holding Grandma’s Hand

Jet ran out of her ballet class waving a page to color. “I got Cinderella Grandma!”

“Great! Let’s put it down while we put on your shoes.”

“You do it. You put on my shoes…. Please!”

I plopped Jet on a nearby chair and slipped on her left shoe. She began to wail almost immediately. “It hurts! Something is wrong! Fix my sock!” I took off the offending shoe and straightened her tights. “It hurts! It hurts! Take it OFF!”

“What in the world is wrong with it? Where does it hurt?” She pointed at her toe. I tried adding a sock on over the tights to soften any discomfort from the sock seam.

“NO! It’s not good.” Jet began to cry in earnest.

“Sweetie, I have absolutely no idea what could be wrong. Maybe you should try to put it on yourself!” Jet began to wail even more loudly. “Now, where did I put your other sock? Oh for pity’s sake! It’s in your shoe! Silly Grandma! Jet agreed. They don’t come any sillier.

With both feet comfortably shod, we proceeded home in time to take a walk before lunch. Jet announced her plan to hold Papa’s hand, but after awhile, she decided to let me have a turn. A dog began to bark and I turned to look, tripping on an uneven piece of sidewalk. “Wow, it’s a good thing I was holding your hand!”

“No, Grandma, I’m holding YOUR hand.”

“Well, if you weren’t, I might have fallen down!”

Jet mulled this over, but looked skeptical. I could almost see the wheels turning. What advantages might the hand-holder have over the holdee? By the time we came to another bump in the concrete, Jet had decided the matter. She reached out and took my hand again. “Here’s another bump, be careful!”

“Why thank you so much!”

Jet grinned. “Here comes another one! Watch out!” She grabbed my arm. “I see a big one coming up! You’d better hold onto me!”

By the time we reached the end of the walk, I felt very well loved indeed.

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