I�m a youngish grandpa. Young enough that I�m not too far removed from being a full-time parent, remembering a house fulla kids and stumbling over toys and mopping up the flotsam that spills from various bilges.

Maggie has proven to be a pretty darn capable Mom. Not too surprising, the woman who bore her and who remains my wife set new standards for capable. She�s now reliving her child raising years as the happy Grandmother. �I can just hand him back, and all the stuff stays over at Maggie�s and Boyfriend Bob�s, and it�s all so very cool!� she has been known to exclaim. Common enough for a Grandma.

But then, this is the village of Outfoxed, where we do things just a bit different than other villages. Where villages take on tsunami�s and other annoyances.

Boyfriend Bob is no more.

Oh I don�t mean he died tragically trying to save people from a burning car. Or passed from a brief bout with some mysterious disease.

Unless that disease was the croup of unaccountability.

I don�t get it. Boy meets girl, falls in love, has baby. Unplanned, yes. Boy declares he will love, honor and support. Outfoxed is pleased.

Boy sees first diaper and runs like hell.

Outfoxed is . . . not so pleased.

Sure, there�s a lot more to it than that. Isn�t there always? Maggie has shown a resilience that I didn�t suspect, a toughness. She packed bags and dog and baby after weeks of neglect and played �Guess who�s coming to dinner?� because she really had no place else to go.

I told and tell my children that they always have a place to go. Always.

And once the house in the swamp is complete, after the upheaval is done and the sun rises over the half acre deep in the woods I expect she�ll be right there with Ally and me. The toys will be ankle deep, and I�ll trip over them and that mop will never be far from my twitching hand.

It twitches only because I�m old and besotted. Has nothing to do with impatience.

Patience - I learned a long time ago. When other children were small, and littered my life with wonder and bright things, and woke me early in the morning with cries for help.

Or a bottle of warm milk. I never did bother to figure out the difference.

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