Sunday we went to visit Grandpa, or “dad” for me, in hopes the whole house had not fallen around him with my mom visiting family in the South.

We met him at a family friend’s house and he seemed to be in good health, despite having hit himself in the mouth with a wrench on Saturday morning. Yes, the crisis doth continue.

In a rather surprising development, my mom has not called to check on her husband in three days, or in fact since she arrived in the South, which is risky considering his past experiences with her absence.

After a lovely dinner at Grandma Jeans (she is not actually our grandmother, but seems like it at times) we tromped through the rain back to grandpa’s where grandpa decided it would be fun for Jonathan to play in some potting soil. It kept the toddler busy while dad and I watched a music program on the God channel. No kidding, that is what it is called — *big booming voice* the GOD CHANNEL.

The potting soil also kept Jonathan messy as it had rained the night before and the soil, as well as the grass in my parent’s yard, was soaked. Jonathan thought he was pretty funny flopping down in the grass and even rolling down the hill at one point, dampening his clothes the whole way.

Being a true guy, my dad kept wandering back into the house, leaving my toddler to do who knows what with the spoon, a flower pot and a wide open yard. I finally had to go supervise and that’s when Jonathan decided to taste the potting soil. The face he made and the little cry that came afterwards made it clear to me that the soil was not tasty at all.

I’ve heard that children get sick more often these days because parents don’t let them eat enough dirt and their bodies therefore do not build up enough immunity. My kid shouldn’t get sick for the next month or so. In addition to eating a pinch of the potting soil he also licked a rock. I have no idea why. But he licked it. It was an odd moment. I saw him through the window and to my dad’s credit he was already on his way to retrieve the rock. It was the one time he was paying attention.

My mom once told me that when I was young she had asked my dad to watch my friends and I while she went to the store. My dad watched us all right. He watched us pull out all the toys from the sun porch and drag them into the living room and make one big mess. Dad was good at that “watching” thing.

After soaking his clothes the toddler was ready for a snack and as usual at grandpa’s that snack is Cool Ranch Doritos, which Jonathan ate sitting on grandpa’s lap. In fact, the rest of the visit for Jonathan was spent on grandpa’s lap — he wanted nothing to do with mommy, who was ready to return home.

I was finally able to drag the child from his grandfather (wow, that sounds awful) and five minutes into our drive the child was knocked out. He was so knocked out I pulled over to be sure he was breathing. Looking back to see ones child slumped over like Bernie from all those dumb Bernie movies (have only ever seen parts of it because the movie was so dumb my brain cells were screaming to be rescued). can be a bit disconcerting for a parent.

He was indeed breathing and indeed sleeping and he kept sleeping even when we returned home. It was a full, fun day, despite the soggy rain.