Beware of grandparents bearing photos of grandchildren.

I had just settled into an airline seat. I was ready to fly. I had checked my brains with my luggage. I had my carry-on underwear in my briefcase. It would give me something to change into in case the flight was a scary one. The airplane was packed except for one seat &045; the one next to me. I thought I might have been lucky enough to have an extra seat to stretch my long body into. It wasn’t to be. A smiling, fellow traveler hurried his way towards me. He was slightly older than I and he was heavily dressed. Probably a Minnesotan and obviously a fellow believer in the old adage, &uot;Don’t dress well, dress warm.&uot; He struggled to put a bag slightly larger than Rhode Island into the overhead compartment above me. Exhausted from this endeavor, he took his seat. Sort of. He sat on my lap. He made some odd sounds as he did so. He made the kind of noises I made when as a child my mother would make me take a monkey bath. A monkey bath is when the bath water is so hot that when you lower yourself into it, you can not help but go, &uot;Oo! Oo! Oo! Ah! Ah! Ah!&uot; After he demonstrated his incredible parallel parking skills, he began to talk.

&uot;Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was thinking about my grandchildren. They are the cutest things you have ever seen. Here, I just happen to have some photos of the grandkids with me. They live in Michigan. Look at this cutie on the merry-go-round. Maybe you should see this one first? This is one of him getting on the merry-go-round. See, his shoelaces are untied. Oh, here you can see his shoes better in this photo. He can’t keep his shoes tied. His father was the same way. Would you like some wallet-sized photos of my grandson? I can give you a nice frame to put them in.&uot;

&uot;I couldn’t help but notice that he doesn’t have a head in any of the photos,&uot; I replied. I guess he hadn’t noticed my snoring. I haven’t been so excited to hear from someone since the telemarketer called me with the exciting news that I could save 70 percent on my inkjet cartridges. I put my bifocals on upside down so I could see the photos differently.

&uot;Yes, I had just gotten a new camera. It took me a while to get the &uot;aim and shoot&uot; technique down. My old camera had more miles on it than Strom Thurmond’s walker.&uot;

&uot;Thank you so much, I loved seeing the photographs of your grandchildren &045; especially the first 37 you showed to me. Your photography has given me a whole new appreciation of cavewall art.&uot;

What is the meaning of life? Perhaps it is to show others photographs of our grandchildren? My wife, The Queen B, and I have jumped on the grandparent bandwagon. We have two grandchildren &045; the lawyer is 2 and the doctor is 6. We shop at Grandparents ‘R Us. We can bore people to death with photos and amusing anecdotes about toilet training and the comings and goings of teeth. To some folks, looking at photos of someone else’s grandkids is like talking to someone on the telephone and then hearing the toilet flush. It is at that moment that you realize that you have been carrying on a sparkling conversation with someone who has been seated on the throne. That explains the echo. Reach out and touch someone takes on an entirely new meaning under such circumstances. Things like this happen regularly in this age of multitasking. I just hope telephones are waterproof.

&uot;How would you like to see a video of my grandchildren?&uot; said my seatmate.

&uot;What?&uot;

&uot;I have a digital videocamera in my briefcase.&uot;

Two could play this game.

&uot;Sure, but not until you have had a good look at some of the drawings of my budding little artist. We gave him the big box of crayons &045; 128 different colors. Why there is even beige and taupe in there. He used them all to produce his first collection. Here is the first artwork of a series of 379 that he has done. A little primitive, but it will speak to you. You are in luck, I have the other 378 drawings right here in my briefcase.&uot;

Our flight became a quiet one.

Just remember that if you wait until you are old enough to be a grandparent, you will never be one.

Hartland resident Al Batt writes columns for the Wednesday and Sunday editions of the Tribune.