A few weeks ago Calvin and I were getting ready to go on a date and decided to get a hamburger on our way. And because empty-nesters have a relatively quiet home without little people wanting attention or teenagers needing attention, we had the time and space to have a conversation about which hamburger place to go to. We listed Jack in the Box, Burger King, McDonald’s, Woody’s, and Carl Jr’s. Calvin said, “I just want a hamburger with a good tomato on it.” Remembering the thriftiness of my grandma, I said, “Well, let’s choose the place with the best and cheapest hamburgers and then we’ll just cut up one of our tomatoes from the garden and take it with us.” And so we did. We tucked it in a baggie and chose . . . . . . . Carl’s Jr. And that is the day I became my grandma.
There have been a few other tell-tale signs that we're getting a little older -- going to bed earlier, grilled cheese sandwiches and canned peaches for supper -- but getting older means understanding each other a little better, too. And that is a good trade-off.
Calvin and I watched this video a few weeks ago for family night. I can't decide whether the part where he brushes her hair or the scene where she steadies his hand is more touching.
Calvin promises he'll bake me cookies and I promise I'll go dancing with him and pack tomatoes in a baggie for his hamburger. The best is yet to be.