Kids Are For The Young

 As I am privileged to spend time with the grandsons, I am reminded how having kids is only for the young. I know guys my age with little ones -- power to them. As for me -- no thanks, no way.

Wednesday I fetched Little Man at school, and from there to D2's house. The plan was to take him to his Padel lesson, as we had the week before. Man -- just watching him during the breaks as he runs around -- it takes a lot out of this 63 year old fellow. There was a friendly Golden Retriever there, and the dog decided to chase Little Man to get some of the banana he was snacking on. It was absurdly adorable.

From there, D2 and I dropped him at his house and spent time with Baby Man, who was delightful. And then I drove D2 home -- she had some time before heading out to a surprise party for her suegro. D2 is a font of great ideas: she poured me some Stoli Elit and ice, and some white wine for herself, and we took a cocktail walk with enormous puppy Betsy. 

From there, I met Dr. Barry. The plan was for Crust, but apparently they closed, and so instead it was La Natural, a place in a hood hard by the railroad tracks that a decade ago was only a place to buy crack cocaine, but like a lot of old Miami, is gentrifying.

We shared a Sonoma red, and some pizza. D1 suggested we get the anchovies, and we complied. We talked of days past and to come.

A recurring theme for us is how we thought we knew so much in our early 20s, and how it turned out we knew so little. But the good news: we're still learning.

I got in my nearly 4 miles of walking today, and await the start of a Zoom shabbos -- a tradition Eric and Dana started during the pandemic, and have kept up. It's nice to watch the candles lit, and the families grow.

Typically there's an after party, too -- cocktails for Eric, Dana, Barry and I . Wifey and Donna sit by quietly --as I joke -- silently judging.

Tomorrow we're invited to D2 and Jonathan's. Hopefully we'll stop in either before or after for a grandson visit. Canes are at Louisville -- I cleared watching the game with D2 and Jonathan. I think the mostly Spanish speaking attendees will forgive me...

So the time marches on, and slips away. The other day a FaceBook (tm) memory appeared -- my late Mom and me at my wedding in January of '87. She was 66 -- younger than Wifey. I recall when the dancing got a bit wild, thanks to our friend Pat taking the stage, I feared for Mom. She was a fragile, older lady and I didn't want her to fall.

Somehow 66 doesn't seem so fragile and old anymore. It all depends on, as the great Dylan sang, your point of view.

As for this Friday evening -- the point of view is just fine...