Better than Bieber

Taking a toddler to a retirement center is like taking Justin Bieber to an all-girls middle school (at least before he was arrested).

We know because we did it last weekend. (Well, the toddler part.)

Ryan had a work meeting close to my grandparents' retirement home in Virginia, so we seized the opportunity. Last time we were there, Will was not yet walking, and we missed seeing them over Thanksgiving, so a little trip to Springfield was in order.

We had dinner with them in their dining room on Friday and Saturday nights, and we could barely eat from all the attention. (And I thought I was popular in Target!)

I particularly recall Edna, who came up to our table on Saturday night and said with much gusto:
"I didn't tell you this last night, but that boy is a living baby doll. Just a living baby doll."
I'm pretty sure the whole dining hall heard her.

And so many sweet people stopped to smile, wave, and play patty cake. I think the last time I exchanged that many smiles, hellos, and thank yous in one place was on my wedding day.

But not all of the attention was good. For example, the woman who came up to me while we were waiting to be seated in the dining room:

"Ma'am, I just have to tell you this. You may not want to hear it, but I have to say it. The way your husband is holding onto that boy by the hood of his sweatshirt is not good. The lady sitting next to me while we were watching you agrees with me. You are doing damage to his neck, and I can already see it. You may not want to hear this from me, but there, I said it."

I thanked her for telling me. I wanted to say something about the damage that would be done to the dining room if Ryan let go of my boy's hood, but I knew that wasn't the point. I love that woman for her care and concern.

I have more to say about the visit with Grandma and Grandpa that I'll save for another post. In a nutshell, their sweetness and kindness is unsurpassed. Grandma sent me home with a completed Grandparents' Journal, filled with pictures and notes in her own handwriting. Priceless. Ashley had the idea, and Grandma made one for all four of her grandchildren. And she also sent me home with pieces from her silver collection and with Grandpa's mother's rolling pin. Stuff like that fills me up. It just fills me up like nothing else.

But more on all of that in another post.

When we were driving to our hotel room on Friday night after dinner, Ryan commented that he felt like Justin Bieber at that place. But then we decided, no, the folks at that retirement center would have rather seen Will than seen Justin. In fact, Justin could probably go there for some anonymity if he needed it. Will's toddling, on the other hand, gave him away the moment we walked in the door.

He's not Justin Bieber. But to them, I think he was better.

On the way back from dinner