Micah Loves His Bubbie...
I waited rather impatiently for a year and a half for baby Micah to say Bubbie—Yiddish for grandma. When it came, it was tentative. Now in just a few short weeks it is a plaintive, but delighted cry. His parents say that when they are a few blocks from my house, he begins to squeal, “Bubbie!” There is nothing so pure as his little heart thrilling at the prospect of seeing his bubbie.
And it doesn’t stop there. There are a few interactions that he always looks forward to with his bubbie. Apparently the most favored one is seeing himself on Bubbie’s phone in little videos I have made of him. Now that he has mastered a few distinct words, one of his first was “bath.” I have a couple of videos of him in his bath. He squeals to see himself splashing in the water. He first gazes unblinking for a short time, then his face breaks out in a massive smile. And babies don’t just smile with their lips. Their whole bodies share in the excitement and every now and then squeals break out.
He has become so attached to me that I have had to work on leave taking when we are to be apart. As he cries, he now waves his little hand vigorously like a windshield blade side to side followed by blowing kisses. Sometimes he just kisses the air, not even bringing up his hand to throw the kisses to me. This little man captures my heart. And all he does is love me and want to be with me.
I do take care of him one day each week, and even though he usually has both a morning and an afternoon nap, we still have time to bask in each other’s presence. Sometimes I have to encourage him to “go find your toys,” to get him interacting more with his surroundings. Even as I do it, I feel the pangs of emptiness, losing his little self, just sitting in my lap.
I realize it may be only a few more months until his delight is in his things, his toys, and less in me. He is my tenth grandchild.
The ones for whom I have had the pleasure and honor of being in their early lives, also used to squeal their devotion to me. I know that little Micah too will inevitably join the throng of these kids who grow to be glad to see me, but very happy to get on with their own pursuits.
I try not to be sad, but I know it’s coming—the time when they don’t breathe my presence as if I am life itself. I don’t want them to be dependent on me in any crippling way, but how I will miss their delighting in me, basking in my love for them.
- Shari
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