Exhaustion, thy name is Maxwell

Whew. My wife and I have just spent three days taking care of our 5-year-old grandson, Maxwell. Or maybe he was taking care of us. In any event, here's what he did:

* Built a Lego city in about an hour. That same task would have taken me a month. That is, a month before I gave up and threw the pieces against a wall.

* Went to Canobie Lake Park in Salem, N.H., where he rode the bumper cars (the Dodgem) six times in a row, often ignoring the traffic because he was busy looking up at the mechanism that causes a spark and propels the cars.

* Announced a career change. Instead of being a train engineer, with his grandparents as his assistants (presumably shoveling in the coal), he wants to join the State Police and operate the command center that is located within a police truck.

* Slept fitfully for a couple of hours, sending the bedsheets and pillows flying, then slept like a motionless angel for a couple of hours, then repeated the process.

* Instructed the plumber on how to tame the disaster that occurred when our outside faucet wouldn't shut off and our yard was being flooded. The plumber appreciated Maxwell's  instructions, acknowledging them with an angry grunt.

It was a marvelous three days, and I think I will recover nicely after an uninterrupted week of sleep.

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A couple of decades ago, when my daughter (a.k.a. Maxwell's mother) was about 13, I was practicing Michael Jackson's moonwalk in our kitchen when she looked up and said, "Why don't you be like other fathers and play chess or something."

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Now that the 40th anniversary of Woodstock is coming up, expect to hear from many great pretenders claiming that they were there. If all the people who say they attended the music festival were really there, the ground would have caved in, sending the attendees to the center of the earth.

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I never see anyone smoking a pipe anymore. I abhor smoking in any form, but I always thought pipe smokers looked kind of cool.

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My wife prefers to bring junk into the house by going to yard sales. I prefer to bring junk into the house by ordering on eBay and elsewhere. We heartily disapprove of each other's methods.

Guilty until proven innocent

Whatever happened to "innocent until proven guilty"? 

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Speaking of such, today I heard someone say, "Cheney shouldn't be on television. He should be in prison!"

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Today's puzzlement: What year followed 1 BC? (Answer Thursday.)

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My grandson Maxwell's mother, whom we adopted  34 years ago, is Korean and his father is Jewish. So he tells people he is "Koreeish." God, I love that kid.

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When I was 9 or 10, a boy from another country moved into the neighborhood. I remember making fun of him. I've regretted that all my life.

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No one reads John O’Hara anymore. At one time he was so popular that Alan Sherman wrote a song that included the words, "How's your sister Sarah? Reading John O'Hara. He's nice, too."

Up, up and away!

Years ago I worked at a suburban newspaper with a nice guy named Henry, who had a quirky sense of humor. Every Easter Sunday, the phone would ring at my home and there would be Henry at the other end of the line announcing that "He has risen." Then, in a voice burbling with excitement, he would add the location where the risen Savior had been spotted this year: "He was seen flying over the high school ... He's now in Dunkin' Donuts breaking his fast ... He was spotted running along the causeway," etc. Sacrilegious? Maybe. Funny? Definitely, at least the way Henry carried it off. I always looked forward to Henry's Easter calls, but one day a few years ago he died too soon of a heart attack. Still, every Easter morning I find myself half-expecting the phone to ring.

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McDonald's hot mocha is every bit as good as what you get at the high-priced joint.

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I am getting up at the butt-crack of dawn Friday to fly to California. I may or may not be able to resume this nonsense until Wednesday, but here's a brain-teaser designed to keep you checking back for the answer: You may know that "the" is the most frequently used word in the English language, but what word comes in second?

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I recently served a three-month stint on a grand jury. Deliberations were secret, but it is no breach of confidence to mention that the phrase "dregs of the earth" frequently crossed my mind.

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My 5-year-old grandson, Maxwell (whom you may read about more than you want to), told me that new homes are very expensive. "You not only have to build the home but you have to put in the flooring and the rugging (sic). A new home can cost $350." God, I love that kid.

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Happy Easter/Passover.