My Grandpa

Last night, when I was changing Little Boy's diaper before putting him to bed, he put his hand over his eyes, as if my changing his diaper was the worst possible thing he has ever been made to endure.
The movement reminded me so much of my grandpa -- his nickname was Grumpy because he was usually grumpy. He'd walk into a room and say, "What the hell's going on in here?" If he heard a story he didn't like, he'd say, "Jesus Christ" (He was Jewish), and put his hand over his eyes, just like Little Boy did last night.
My grandpa died during my pregnancy with Big Boy. I was six months pregnant. I know it's selfish of me to wish he'd lived long enough to meet Big Boy, and even longer to meet Little Boy -- I just know he would have gotten a kick out of them.
When I first told him I was pregnant, he was so happy! I'd called my parents right away to tell them, but I'd waited to tell my grandpa in person. I could hardly wait. His eyes got big and they filled up with tears. Later, he once said to MrDartt, "MrDartt, how's your fat wife?"
He would have loved how Big Boy talks nonstop and wants to do everything himself and how Little Boy waves at everybody while smiling this goofy, nose-wrinkled smile.
But most of all, I would have loved to point out to him all the things they do that remind me of him.