The Visit

Part One: Getting Ready

The preparations for Bina’s week-long visit to our home began three weeks (or more) before her arrival. It wasn’t as if we needed to put the crib together or install the safety gate atop the stairs three weeks in advance – but we couldn’t contain our excitement.  A whole week with our expanded nuclear family.  Six adults, whose presence would be fully eclipsed by a 16-month old toddler.  

The countdown in the context of what, otherwise seems to be the increasingly dramatic acceleration of the passing of time, seemed to slow day by day. New toys and board books arrived almost daily from Amazon.  Having completed the “Bina Trail” in our backyard months before, We searched Amazon for sales on Christmas lights to string along the paths and then spent hours hanging the lights among the trees. We traveled to a used children’s clothing and toy store in Kennesaw and bought a small inflatable baby pool and 200 plastic balls. The method to our madness – an indoor ball pit – which we were sure would entertain Bina for hours.  Three days before the visits, we hauled the car seat up from the basement to ensure that it would be safely installed in time for Bina’s arrival. 

Part Two: The Cold

Two days before the visit, our daughter Nomi shared with us the unhappy news the Bina was running a fever. This news sent Jo and me into a mild depression, tinged with a shade of anxiety and frame with an overlay of grandparental heartbreak.  But, as my religious sister would say, “Baruch Ha’shem” (Thank God), the fever broke the next day, and they were on their way.  

Unfortunately, rather than a self-contained ailment, the fever was the first warning shot of a very significant toddler cold which arrived in full bloom about the same time as Nomi, Keith and Bina’s luggage at the Atlanta Airport.  

Colds are not pleasant. But as adults, we get it; we know we’re going to feel achy, our head will throb, and our nose will either run constantly or, fully stuffed become a useless appendage roughly equivalent to the Lincoln Tunnel during rush hour.  But we understand that, as crummy as we feel, it is just a cold, we know it will end and we get to travel to the drug store and choose from the aisle long array of drugs to enable us to feel something that approaches normal.  Not having this perspective, or access to all that modern pharmaceuticals have to offer, toddlers get to whine, cry and become obstinate.  Which, more or less, describes our first two days with Bina.  Thus, for two days, six adults gathered around Bina in our den and took turns doing our best to help her feel less miserable. 

By and large, it was to no avail. Bina wailed at any action or offering that didn’t precisely meet her desires.  Cheerios instead of hard boil eggs – a scream and they are tossed on the floor.  Blueberries that do not arrive immediately on her tray – an outrage! (and a rage). Goodnight Moon instead of Pout Pout Fish – how dare you!  And, of course, the worst possible offense was wiping her nose which, in every instance, resulted in a full meltdown.  Collectively, we developed a sense of snot tolerance.  Additionally, we all acknowledged that there was virtually no chance that all of us wouldn’t get sick.  Which, of course, we all did. 

Bina felt miserable and we felt miserable for her.  It was not the fully joyous gathering we had imagined. And, without question, it was exhausting.  Thus, both in the morning and afternoon, when she napped, we also collapsed.

On the third day, when Tylenol became the course of action, all changed.

Part Three: Feeling Better 

By the third day, with the help of Tynenol, Bina began feeling better. It was then that the joys of grandparenting a 16-month-old became manifest.  Bina’s language is exploding.  Say and animal and she will make its sound.  Point to someone or a photo and she will share his/her name.  As she walks into a room she waves and says “Hi!” and melts the hearts of all nearby. To my great joy, she has mastered her grandparents’ appellations.  Jo is “Bubbe” which she says with aplomb.  Zayde was a bit more difficult and, over the course of the visit, Bina transitioned from “Z” to “Ziti” – all of which I loved. But she also mastered the names of her aunts and uncles and, of course, Augie the Dog. She is also beginning to put words together into small phrases.  How could one not plotz when greeted with “Hi Zayde!”.  

The emergence of language in a child is also an indication that she has begun to engage in symbolic thinking and, thus, we watched with delight as she hugged stuffed animals and rolled a toy tractor across the carpet.  A child’s development is a wonder to behold and, in the absence of the day-to-day caring responsibilities of parents, grandparents have the best seats in the house to savor this miracle. 

Part Four: The Well-Trained Family

Bina knows how to work the crowd and she has us all well-trained.  Among her favorite routines is to raise her hands high above her head and declare “HOORAY!”, to which all must respond in kind.  Thus, sitting around the table, at random moments Bina will raise her hands, declare “HOORAY”, and being the adoring, hyperattentive family members we are, we all respond in unison. Delighted by our response, she will repeat the action…perhaps 10 times in succession.  Let’s be clear about who is in charge. 

Another fun game is the “high five”, which, as we all know, is the hand slap declaration of partnership, friendship, and success.  In Bina’s high-five world, the adult recipient is required to follow up the hand slap with some form of ridiculous physical action; a faux collapse to the floor, an exaggerated full-body shake, wiggling and giggling.  She loves this, although we’re not sure whether she enjoys the entertainment or relishes her ability to turn adults in into lunatics on command.  I would argue, that the ability to become a lunatic on command is a requisite grandparental skill.

Part Five: The Remnants 

It is striking how a 16^-month-old child can transform a house from a relatively ordered environment to a post-apocalyptic site of ruin and destruction.  We hugged and waved goodbye tearfully to Bina and her parents and then turned around to scan the scattered remains of a child’s visit. Blocks and toys are strewn across the den floor, Cheerios hidden beneath kitchen table legs, stuffed animals filling every available seat on the couch.  At least for a moment, we relish this mess as it is the remnants of a joyful visit.  But soon the blocks, the stuffed animals, the board books, the car seat, the high chair, the crib sheets, the stroller and the rest of the requisite toddler accouterments are returned to their closets and drawers throughout the house – waiting to be reassembled for another whirlwind visit. The unused ball pit and the unvisited Bina trail will have to wait for the next visit.  If only. If only, I could get “Baby Beluga” and “Pout Pout Fish” surgically removed from my cranial feedback loop.