The Joys and Perils of Having Children Late
You’re older and more mature. But your parents are just older.
This essay is part of Medium’s Mind the Gap: Generational Differences series.
My parents are two of my best friends. Please do not tell 15-year-old me that, in 30 years, Mom and Dad are going to be two of his best friends. He will find that fact depressing. But it’s true. I’m proud of it.
The Leitch parents moved from rural Illinois to Winterville, Georgia about four years ago, after they retired, so they could be near my two young sons, their only grandchildren. After missing most of the boys’ first two years, they get to watch them grow up now. They know their teachers, they make them their favorite brands of mac-n-cheese, they get to go to all their baseball games. Dad helps me coach my younger son, Wynn’s, team, actually, and this year, because we’re trying to play Little League Baseball in a pandemic, he even built a little baseball-field-shaped rack with hooks for them to hang their masks when they go out onto the field. Isn’t it great?
I know they’re just here for the grandkids, but I couldn’t be more grateful to have…
