Bruce : “Hello Grandpa.”
Me : “Hello Grandson.”
Bruce : “My name is Bruce.”
Me : “I’ve also got a name.”
Bruce : “Grandpa”
Me : “What is my special name.”
Bruce : “Grandpa.”
He runs off. Hiding his lack of knowledge. He is one of only four people who can call me grandpa. I think I will go with that. He is special. He doesn’t have to call me by my name. He doesn’t even have to know it. Providing I am the only one (there is one other) he uses that name for. Providing he doesn’t use that name for every retired old fart he meets.
He can stick with calling me grandpa.
Bruce dances with swinging arms and legs. He then says “I can teach you”
I try and copy him.
He is jubilant at my efforts. He is jubilant that I dance like a drunk giraffe.
I am happy to let him watch my efforts.
He smiles at my dancing. So easy to look after grandkids.
Bruce : I’ll let you in my gang. if you know the secret word.
Me : What is the secret word?
Bruce : I can’t tell you. It’s a secret? It’s so secret I don’t even know it.
I can hear a soft rumbling noise becoming louder. Bruce also hears it and he dashes out the front door. I follow him and we both stand and watch the wheelie bin truck slowly work its way towards us. Stopping and extending its arm, grabbing the bin, lifting the bin, tipping the bin into the larger truck, lowering the bin back on the footpath.
The footpath is beginning to look like a scene from Dr Who. Aliens hiding in all the bins. To walk down the footpath we now have to dodge all the bins and be careful and aware of the aliens hiding in them.