The morning after my grandfather passed away, I was in the bakery section of the grocery store looking for bagels. As I contemplated cinnamon raisin or blueberry, I heard an exchange at the donut case that made me a sniffling mess. Two small children, obviously brother and sister, were oohing and aahing over the donuts, trying to choose just one out of all those goodies. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what relationship they shared with the man behind them. He seemed old enough to be grandpa but, having a much younger spouse and regularly being asked if Scarlett is my granddaughter, I’m reluctant to categorize without more evidence. But I got drawn in by what he said next to them and then to me. “Go ahead an
d pick two,” he said to enthusiastic response. “Why not?,” he said as he looked at me with a good-natured shrug. “Isn’t that what grandpas are for?” As the mom of children who don’t need more than one donut at any given time, I wasn’t totally on board. But as the girl who just lost her grandpa, I tearfully agreed. I’m sure they thought the weepy mute woman in the bakery section was a little off, but they started it. In Hiawyn Oram’s A Boy Wants A Dinosaur, a little boy dreams of a day spent dinosaur shopping with the one person who really understands: his grandpa. My grandfather didn’t give donuts or dinosaurs, just quarters and candy and card tricks. Lucky me.http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0374408890/teachersnet
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