Only one cure for evil: death

Chuck Kurtz

Chuck Kurtz

Mid-afternoon Wednesday, I was sitting on the couch in my son’s home and next to me, as usual, was 4-year-old granddaughter Rylin, snuggling next to me while playing doctor and dentist on her tablet. Then she stretched out, putting her head on the pillow and her legs and feet across my lap.

“Tickle my feet,” she said.

And, of course, I obliged.

We talked about her day in school, about how she ate the rest of Mee-Moo’s (Grandma Terri’s) meatloaf for lunch, and then began playing a maze game. We took turns helping each other.

“We make a pretty good team,” I told her. Continue reading

A fit to remember

(EDITOR’S NOTE: For the purpose of understanding some of the wording in this column please note the following definitions: Me-moo is Grandma Terri; Bock-ba is Grandpa Chuck; and mommy is, well, mommy — son Justin’s wife Heather.)

It was bound to happen sooner or later as it always does with preschool children trying to exert their wants, desires and independence. They throw little hissy fits.

And so it was with granddaughter Rylin Tuesday night. For the most part, it has been pretty smooth sailing through the “Terrible Twos” with grandchild No. 4. She’s just a couple of days shy of 2-1/2 and has an extremely gentle and pleasant disposition — strong-willed sometimes, but seldom erupts into a crying fit and has never done that with me. Continue reading

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