Childhood revisited

Grandson stayed over as usual this Friday. Come Saturday morning at seven o'clock, when this post pops up, he'll be up too, buzzing around in his pyjamas while we grope our way towards reality. Our internal clocks are at least an hour or two behind his.

As usual his chirpy antics will make me smile and for a moment or two while I make the morning tea, I'll wonder why it's so uplifting to watch the little chap enjoying himself on a sunny morning. Maybe it won't be be sunny, but he'll be just as chirpy if it's pouring with rain.

It's obvious enough I know, but what exactly is so pleasing about having youngsters around again?

A while back I decided that at least in my case it may be something to do with being wafted back to my own childhood. Back to those far off innocent days when I'd have been exactly like grandson is now. Minus a few dozen toys maybe, but the flavour, the nuances of my own past do come back to life during these moments.

Yet there are many other times when I feel we are letting them down so badly - his generation. We could and should have done so much more. So much less too. But maybe these cynical thoughts are best left on the back burner - at least for now.