Our family spends lot of time together.
In fact, if I were to pick a favourite activity, it would be that one.
My eldest daughter, Caitlin, and her family were over.
We were having a comfortable gab-fest after a hearty and satisfying dinner together.
Don't I sound like an advertisement for something?
Moving on . . .
Her Baby Daughter, nearly two, was busy playing at our feet.
She managed to put a toy train together.
All by herself.
“Oh, good job!” Caitlin told her. “Fist bumps!”
Baby Daughter grinned, doubled up her hand into a tiny fist and punched Mom gently on her knuckles.
“Yeah!” Caitlin said. “Now go and give Grampa fist bumps!”
I should mention, here, that our grandkids adore their Grampa. He plays with them.
Ponies. Troll under the bridge. Pirates.
But fist bumps?
The grin disappeared.
Baby Daughter gave her Grampa a sidelong glance, then, simply tipped full-length onto the couch and lay there.
Her attitude said it all.
'I . . . would rather . . . die!'
“Hey!” Grampa said. “I want fist bumps!”
His only response was a giggle.
He never got his fist bumps.
I guess you have to be selective about what you share . . .