This past week, I have spent a lot of time with my grandchildren, Jordan age 3 and Taylor, 18 months.

Having grandchildren is like signing up for a circus you didn’t know you were hosting. They show up, turn your house totally upside down, eat one bite of what you offer them and then ask for something else, deciding for some reason that they no longer like the first food item you offered them even though you have seen them eat it hundreds of times.

They always leave you with sticky fingerprints.  I am still scrubbing the mirrors on my hall closet because Taylor felt the urge to wipe her saliva-soaked cracker all over it, laughing the whole time, and obviously thinking this was the funniest activity.

But the best part?  They also leave you with a heart full of love. They love you just for baking brownies with them. You get to spoil them rotten and then send them home to their parents—sweet revenge for all those sleepless nights their Mom gave me.  

And I get to take a nap when they leave. . .