Grampy Arrives... Finally

Almost all of the grandparents were in town when Evan was born (both grandmas were there for the delivery, as I mentioned earlier, and luckily Grandpa Jim was working in San Jose at Adobe the week before). My dad, however, was only going to be able to come for a weekend, so he waited until the boy was actually here to arrange his flight. If only having a plane ticket was enough by itself to transport one across the country.

I'm not going to relate the full story to you here because, quite frankly, I got confused and lost interest about half way through. Suffice it to say that between Thursday evening and Friday afternoon the only people who called our house were one of my parents to tell us that Dad was arriving later than the last time they called for one reason or another. If you're interested, maybe he can explain how hard it is to catch a single direct non-stop flight to see your one and only grandchild for the first time. (Actually, there were some extenuating circumstances, but it's more fun to ignore those and give him a hard time about it.)

Eventually everything worked out, though, and early Friday afternoon Evan completed his grandparent quartet. Here's a picture of my dad with my son:

Later on in the weekend I got a better picture of the two of them. This may be the only documented case of Dad directly helping with baby duty:

He could be persuaded to help burp the boy, but he said it was not a grandfather's role to change diapers, only to observe and critique. Fortunately when Mom cajoled him into helping with a change a little later Evan had the good sense to immediately pee on him.