Recently, I almost threw popcorn at my television.
It was during House Hunters International, a favorite show of mine. Each episode features an American (often a couple) trying to find just the right home to rent or buy in a foreign city. An agent works with them, showing them options.
The other night I watched a delightful couple as they looked for a new permanent home in Amsterdam, and were selling their home in the U.S. They were such nice people, very unpretentious, and had a really good marriage. (I always like to see that instead of bickering couples.)
Anyway, they told the real estate agent they wanted a home with enough bedrooms for their two daughters and their significant others to come and visit. “We have a very close family,” they said.
The couple also mentioned they wanted room for grandchildren that might be coming some day. They said, with genuine love and enthusiasm, something along the lines of, “We hope our daughters will bring their children to Amsterdam frequently!”
“Are you crazy?!?” I shouted at the TV.
Do they really think new parents are going to bring a newborn across the ocean … or will be happy to suffer through an international flight with a toddler a couple times a year? Then as the grandchildren grow to be good travelers, the kids will have school schedules and a social life and perhaps not be too keen on that vacation to Amsterdam the week of a best friend’s party.
But I didn’t throw popcorn. Was I the same way before grandkids, not realizing the impact they would have on my life? Did I not realize the closeness I would want with them? Maybe a bit. Nothing dropkicks you into a new way of thinking like your child handing you a grandchild. Only then, perhaps, does putting an ocean between you sound ludicrous.
You know and I know that these House Hunters removing themselves from easy access to future grandkids might seriously regret this permanent move to Amsterdam.
But maybe not. Maybe their grandkids won’t be as adorable as mine and yours are.
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