Every couple of weeks I take the boys to Gramma and Grampa's house for the morning. This is a new idea for me as my grandparents lived on the other side of the country when I was growing up. Despite my limited visits with them however, the summers spent with my grandparents are some of my strongest and favorite memories. When we pull onto Gramma and Grampa's treelined street in a small town a little under twenty minutes away the boys get so excited. "There is Gramma's house!" (Yes...Grampa lives there too...but it remains Gramma's house!) I remember pulling into the driveway of my grandparents house after a long trip and the excitement I too felt. There was a comfort in knowing that everything would be predictable there. It would smell like Grammie or Nanny's house...there would be marshmallow cookies in the cupboard and the same scented soap in the bathroom. The box of toys would be right where I last left them in the bottom shelf of the linen closet. The playhouse would be calling for children to fill it with make believe.
When I see Ben and Jacob run into Gramma's house into the "snack cupboard" and find the comfort of their box of raisins, juice box and rice cracker (the standard...) I remember the sensations and rituals of my grandparents house. They run into the back hall and drag out their bin of toys...that Gramma lets them line the kitchen floor with. They find their favorite books, Daddy's old micro machines and push their luck for a second juice box.
Similarly when we arrive at Grammie and Grandad's house for Sunday Dinner, the same ritual begins. They wander the backyard, dig up the flower bed that has become theirs to build in and proceed to dump out all their toys from the basket. It just smells and feels like a grandparents house. I love that they are able to make these memories!
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