If you’re like me, I’m tired of cold weather. How long’s it been going on now, six, eight weeks. It began well before Christmas. Of course that didn’t stop us from sharing a joyous Christmas and New Years with family. My 3-year-old grandson Mikey was under the weather for a few days during the Christmas season, you know, that midwinter stomach virus and such. When 5-year-old grandson Keegan saw the attention lavished on Mikey, he became ill.

To be honest, the little guy had been fighting off the blahs for several days also. Luckily, came the last few hours of Christmas day, both little guys were feeling as chipper as the three chipmunks, Alvin, Theodore and Simon.

(I suppose I should mention everyone came down with the virus throughout the holidays, but that’s OK. The days we felt good were worth it.)

Now, Mikey might be only a few months past his third birthday, but he is a big as Keegan. Often folks take them for brothers; one even suggested they were twins, for they do look alike. Tow-headed little guys, their little bodies are packed with so much energy, they bounce off the walls.

I’ll tell you this, put the two together, and it’s like turning a mini-tornado loose in the house. They are the perfect reason backyards were made.

Sometimes watching them, I figure God must have a wry sense of humor to put so much energy and noise into such small bodies and expecting worn-out codgers like me to keep up with them. He’s probably laughing his head off at me. I’ve often wondered what He’s paying me back for, but then, my list is too long to talk about.

I pick them up a couple days a week from day care, and we always go out to a fast food restaurant to feed their hollow legs. I’ve sat in amazement as they eat. At first I wondered where they managed to store their meal, but after observing their running and playing, I’m convinced they work off a bag of french fries every five minutes.

Now, the restaurant we frequent has a three-level playhouse replete with slides and swings. They, along with other little ones, swarm over the playhouse, yelling and screaming, literally climbing the walls and swinging from the ceiling.

You can’t get them to sit and eat. Oh no! They dash down, grab a bite of chicken nugget or hamburger, then race back up, yelling like wild Indians. Next time they’re down, they’ll grab a drink of Sprite or cherry limeade to wash the food down.

After forty-five minutes to an hour, they’ve gone through their soft drink, fries, and nuggets or hamburger, and are ready for more when we leave.

I’ve witnessed both those ravenous little boys gobble down a small hamburger before we get to the first red light.

Like all cousins, they whine and cry to be with each other, usually forcing their Moms into surrender and taking one to the other. So naturally, what do you expect when the two boys get together, play? No, they fight, and fight, and fight. Typical boys.

Now, Keegan, the older one, is surprisingly coherent on the telephone. By that, he can carry on a conversation. Up until a couple months back, his telephone exchanges were single, maybe double words, but it is amazing how those youngsters grow up so doggone fast.

In fact, they’re growing way, way too fast. In the years to come, Grandpa is just going to be an afterthought, the period at the end of a sentence.

But until then, I’ll do my best to keep up with them and enjoy them as much as I can.

[rconwell@gt.rr.com; www.kentconwell.blogspot.com]