The Magic Blanket Fort

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The Magic Blanket Fort - book excerpt

Chapter 1

Mid-morning on September 11, 2009, my Grandson Charlie arrives into the world, weighing a healthy six-pound eight-ounces. Our faces are streaked with tears as they river themselves down our cheeks. My wife, my daughter and I are beside ourselves with contentment, peace, and joy to meet this wonderful gift of life. My wife and I stand around my daughter's bedside, looking down at her. My wife's hands caressing my daughter's forehead as she holds this bundle of joy close to her chest, smiling proudly, knowing she is a mother. My offspring had a rough go of it, being on bed rest the last couple of months of her pregnancy. All of us experience relief when Charlie is born. My name is Ben and from the instant holding this little breathing life in my arms, he becomes my best friend.

People say they witness love at first sight; that's true because I am in love the minute I see this little guy. Charlie is a good baby, eating and sleeping well, and never crying at night. Sue, my wife, and I keep him as much as possible as we love him being around. He spends the night often.

As Charlie grows, he smiles, frowns, and laughs when he hears familiar voices. He observes everything. The moment we turn on the television or music, that little boy looks towards it and smiles. He loves music. When the radio plays, he hums to the music with his baby sounds. Charlie tries his best to sing.

I have forgotten how hard and tiring it can be taking care of a little one. Just as we relax on the couch, he cries, and one of us has to get up and go check on this baby. Usually, we both get up and creep down the hall to spy in to see what he is doing. Many times, he is looking at the ceiling kicking his little legs all around, his blanket thrown to the corner of his crib.

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Time zooms by, and Charlie can sit up on his own. Sue and I take so many pictures as we are proud of him. Even at this young age, he likes to come to Grandma and Grandpa's to spend time with us.

Soon enough, he crawls, getting into everything. This is when I have to childproof the house by covering the plugs and such. Perhaps a little overprotective as our place is like Fort Knox secured from any harm to our little grandbaby. Since the moment he crawls, showing autonomy, he doesn't like anyone holding him and will squirm his way loose, and off he crawls. I figure his character will be that of independence, freethinking, and curiosity.

Charlie begins walking at an average age for children and moves quickly. The wife and I take him out in the backyard, and he takes off, running as fast as his little feet will carry him. Believe me, it feels exhausting chasing after him, making sure he doesn't trip and hurt himself. Charlie spends the night with us every Tuesday as Geri, my daughter, works the night shift. By the time Charlie falls asleep on Tuesday nights, my wife and I are ready for bed as well.

Charlie is a late talker. He knows what various objects are but doesn’t voice what they are. When he wants his sippy cup or a toy, he points to it and grunts. Even though he doesn’t talk much, he has a keen sense of observation. He notices everything from a new picture on the wall to flowers his grandmother just placed on the table.

When he finally does start speaking, his first word is Mom, which brings my daughter to tears. Shortly after, he peers at my spouse and says, "Grandma." A week or so later, bouncing him on the bed, he looks at me and says, "Pah Pah," then I cry. Kids always come up with their own names to call their grandparents.

One evening, Charlie and I are rolling a ball back and forth on a blanket spread out on our front yard's grass. Charlie laughs and giggles as he swats at the ball, doing his best to roll the ball back to me. Sue and Geri sit nearby talking when Charlie points towards the city, which is visible from our front yard and says, "Albuquerque." He says this word so clear; it is impressive that such a complicated name is his fourth word.

"Did you hear that?" I ask them. They stop their chatter and listen.

We ask him to repeat it, and he does. After this, the kid talks non-stop.

Being a writer and telling him stories, it isn't long before Charlie becomes a storyteller. The names this kid makes up in his head, such as Sneener, PoPo, and Meno, are fantastic. Another character of his creation is Goo Goo Ga Gus. When I ask about these characters, he says they are his friends. He insists that Sneener and Goo Goo Ga Gus are boyfriend and girlfriend. I enjoy playing along with these tales and made-up characters.

Charlie has such a vivid imagination and God's given the benefit of creativity to this boy. At first, his stories consist of general things that boys make up in their imagination. However, around six years of age, his stories become very exact, more specific than what matches his age. Charlie describes scenes and characters beyond his age group's imagination. I ask where he gets these ideas, and he says they are real. I play along. What am I going to do? Tell a six-year-old little boy I don't believe his fables. Charlie has a blessed gift. I will never discourage it by suggesting I don't believe him.