Grandpapa is Slipping

I think I am slipping in my skills and role as a “grandpapa.” Last Saturday, I went for a ride, a walk, and a “little adventure” with my grandson Victor. We walked along the Outaouais River and got to see dogs having fun in the water, a chipmunk walking without fear right in front of us, wildflowers that Victor said he had never seen before, butterflies flying by. It was a very pleasant time together. On the way back to his house, I suggested we stop to get treats: Drumsticks filled with chocolate ice cream in a wafer cone and topped with peanuts. Victor had no objection whatsoever to this suggestion. However, when I suggested that we should tell the rest of the family that we found the Drumsticks in a dessert garden filled with rows upon rows of Drumsticks, chocolate cakes, puffy pastries, and an assortment of other goodies he objected: “No, grandpapa, we can’t say that. That’s not the truth!” When we got back to his place, he told his parents, “We bought them with grandpapa’s money.” After twenty-eight years as a grandpapa, I fear I am losing my ability to inspire wild imagination in my grandchildren. Woe to me!