Our son Jimmy and his family had just moved in with us and we were all adjusting. Not a bad thing, just an adjustment. One hot July evening, Max, our ten-year-old grandson, came upstairs to talk. We sat at the end of the bed. I thanked Max for his help in getting the family moved in and his assistance to me (I have Parkinson's and he is a great, selfless server) and his unhesitating cooperation in the everyday functioning of the household. I told him how proud I was of him, how much I enjoyed seeing him every day (now that he lived in my house) and how glad I was that he was my grandson. After I had gone on several minutes in this vein, a little smile appeared on Max's face and he said, rather matter-of-factly, "Grandma, you know what? There's going to be a statue of me in downtown Colorado Springs." We both burst into giggles and laughed uproariously for several minutes, side by side, hugging one another. When I got my breath back, I said, "On a horse?" And we went off into fits of laughter again, tears flowing.
"Grandma", Max said, when we finally calmed down, "I love hearing you laugh". More hugs, more tears.
I love Max. And I wish everyone could know him. He is such a great mixture of sharp intelligence, humor, fine tender feelings, empathy, and humility. And whatever quality it is that inspired the "statue" idea. That's Max. Gosh, I am such a lucky Grandma.