Spending Time with a Twelve Year Old Boy

I’m in the Quad Cities, an area that straddles the Mississippi River on both sides of the Illinois-Iowa state lines, visiting my daughter and her family this week. On this trip I thought it would be fun to spend a day one on one with each of the two older grandchildren. Garrett, my oldest grandson, had his day today.

Garrett is 12 and for his day he chose to see the movie Ant-Man, eat a cheeseburger at Red Robin, and shop for Legos. Then I gently persuaded him to let me buy him some jeans. Ok, I bribed him with the promise of an ice cream on our way home, but it worked.

The kid has hit a huge growth spurt this summer, and all of his pants look more like ladies’ capris. It’s not a good look on a 12-year-old boy whose voice is deeper than most grown men’s, but he’s fairly oblivious to style do’s and dont’s.

Over lunch it occurred to me that this funny, handsome, geeky kid probably will have no interest in a date with his Nana next summer. I’ll lose him to his guy friends soon, and he’ll be swooning over some girl before long.

But on this trip he told me about the video games he’s into and his plans to design games himself some day. We giggled over Antman’s antics and pecan praline ice cream. We argued over the virtues of Star Wars  versus Minecraft Legos. On this trip he was still a little boy.