Opinion : What a grandpa should always know...and what he should always say

Not lost, just exploring. Liana makes Grandpa Dean look silly again...

I feel perfectly safe in small town Iowa-- safe enough to take my young granddaughters virtually anywhere in the Vinton area.

I don't mind letting the girls walk on their own when I take them out in public, although we have very strict rules about streets.

I feel comfortable taking the girls to the store, or the park, and letting them wander, as long as they are within sight and not more than a few steps away.

I also understand that "I don't know" is not an acceptable answer to the question "Where is your granddaughter?" when it's my job to baby sit.

But on Friday morning, for a few minutes, that's exactly what I would have had to say.

I was invited to take photos of the Viking football players and Coach Womochil as they unloaded the new theater seats into the old Lincoln building (that project has been delayed until Monday). I was standing outside the old school, on the phone, trying to call to find out if I had gone to the right place. I had my camera around my neck, and the hand of the 1-year-old in my right as I used my left hand to hold the phone while I looked around to see if anyone else was coming while trying learn via the phone if I was where I was supposed to be.

After making two short phone calls, I looked around for the 2-year-old.

Nothing.

She likes to roam, so I walked around the corner of the old school.

Nobody.

I walked back the other way.

Still, nothing.

I was not too worried, yet. But still I was beginning to feel not-so-good about the not knowing.

Gerald Horst came by.

He pointed above my head.

"I think that's one of yours up there," he said, gesturing toward the fire escape of the church across the alley from the school.

Sure enough, the 2-year-old had seen the iron steps and decided it looked like more fun than sticking around at ground level.

I sat the younger baby on the ground near the steps and trotted up. Of course, that one was already on her way up before Liana I got back down. I got them both buckled safely in their car seats in my van as quickly as possible.

Then I took them to their mother.

I usually confess my grand parenting faults to my daughter, and did so on Friday.

"She's fast," said her mom.

I spent the day pondering why I didn't worry when Liana disappeared, or why I didn't scold her when I saw she had climbed up that fire escape.

It took me hours to find the words but this is it: When the world says, "NO!!" a grandpa says "Wait for me."

One day we were putting the girls in the car seat when Liana climbed into the driver's seat.

"You can't sit there today," I said. "Mommy's watching."

That was a joke -- mostly.

While I dutifully place the girls in their car seats while driving on the highway, I have let them sit on my lap while going down our farm driveway. And while Grandma might grumble a bit, at times we share Grandpa's sports drink instead of milk in our sippy cup.

Sure, I teach the girls not to play in the street. When I say to them, "Careful!" it means slow down. When I say "Stop!" it means don't go any further. Liana usually obeys these words, although Arianna at age 1 is still learning.

But on the day a while ago when Liana saw me sitting in the street, working on her dad's truck, and came and sat on my lap, it was because she wanted to be with me. And even though the street is generally off limits, she figured that if Grandpa was sitting in the street, he probably had a good reason, and probably wanted some company.

I did.

Some times, of course, you have to say no.

But mostly, a Grandpa should say "Wait for me; let me be part of what you are doing." Whether that means going up a fire escape or moving to Washington, D.C. to help keep a national landmark functioning (as one of the grandchildren of an Iowa veteran has recently done), my main job as Grandpa is not to worry them about potential dangers that may lie ahead, but to give them the courage and curiosity that inspires them explore the opportunities.