In mid-April,  my husband and I went back to our grandchildren’s house for the first time in over a year.

We were vaccinated and thrilled to be back.

Hanah, who is a “big girl” (3 years old), goes to daycare now. So we are babysitting just one grandchild, her little brother Elijah, one day a week.

Elijah is over a year old now.

We babysat Hanah one day a week from the time she was four months old.  We fed her bottles and walked her and held her while she napped. We missed all that with Elijah, because of the Covid Pandemic.

We wondered if Elijah would even remember us, from the few times we had seen him, and from our Zoom get-togethers.

When my daughter Liz reported that Elijah wiggled with joy and leaned forward in her arms when she said, “Grandma and Grandpa are here!”, it was better than winning an Academy Award. It was hitting the ball out of the ballpark. It was winning the joy lottery.

Our days with Elijah have been wonderful, and today was no exception.

He has mastered walking and now walks very quickly, everywhere.  He is fascinated with the gate between the dining room and the kitchen and has opened and closed it at least fifty times today.

Elijah sleeps less than Hanah but wakes up more slowly.

He loves to be read to.  When he sits on my lap and we read, he says “Dah!” proudly and loudly, and taps the page in the picture book where there is a bird or a bunny (or practically any large shape, to be realistic).

He clearly remembers the really fun activities and when some intrusive adult pulls him away from banging the venetian blinds against the window or pounding on the very intriguing metal pedals under the piano, he politely goes with the adult and then, resisting any attempt at distraction, turns right around and heads back to the fun stuff.

He likes bread and cheese but kicks and wiggles all over, every line of his body expressing pure joy, when he sees the apple I pull out of my lunch bag.

He loves people and enjoys conversing. Today we had a long conversation, as he sat like a little beneficent king in the stroller, smiling placidly upon his subjects as we progressed up the sidewalk in his neighborhood.

He was full of questions as we moved, and I was full of answers.

“Dee?” He asked.

“Dee,” I confirmed.

“Dah?”

“Dah.”

“Oom –  Oom – OOM?” (Rising in pitch, as if he is going up the scale.)

“Yes, Oom, oom OOM,” I tell him.

He seemed to find this conversation very satisfactory. As did I.

Without knowing it, Elijah is a joy factory.

We leave his house tired but happy. Full of joy.

Like an echo chamber, he magnifies the love we give him, until the small amount of hugs and kisses and smiles and attention we shower on him floods back to us in hours and hours of wellbeing and joy and happy memories.

May every grandparent get to be with their little joy factories as soon as possible.

May we all celebrate, more than ever, getting back together after this long cold period of isolation. May we cherish the pure joy of hugging, playing with and holding those little ones we love so much.

Oom to all of us.