Career Change or, “Opa what’s your Job?”

I love being Opa (the word for grandpa in German). My grandchildren and all their friends call me Opa. I’m even introduced as Opa by my own adult children, other parents and friends with kids who know me. How I morphed from being called Dad or Mr. A, as my own kids friends would address me while growing up, to simply Opa and what my job has become in an extended community family is an interesting and humorous story.

The Opa title is a respectful, friendly and less formal, term for children to use when addressing more senior male adults. In many families culturally defined hierarchal structures it is considered rude and definitely impolite for children to address adults by first name alone. So following in the traditions of my heritage, I became Opa when my first grandchild arrived. Now, my own children refer to me as Opa, and call me Opa when their children are present. Once when my son called me Dad in front of his son, he was promptly reminded by a very astute 3 year old that my name is Opa.

For me, one of the best things about becoming Opa is the dramatic change it made in my relationship with my own children. Now that they have children of their own they understand Mom and Dad a lot more except for one thing. How can we be so much more tolerant with grandchildren than we were with them? “You’d never let us get away with something like that. seems to come up in conversation more often these days. But it’s the “conversations” that we have that are really different. It seems that the older my kids get, the wiser I have become, because now they not only listen to me but actually ask for help and advise. It all kind of reminds me of an old TV commercial quote that said, “We get to soon old, and to late smart!”

You have got to understand, in our family circle, close physical contact between Opa and the grandkids is the rule rather than the exception. Hugs always seem to transform into some form of playful wrestling that inevitably leads me into my JOB. As far as my grandkids, and their friends, are concerned, the only job I have is to make them laugh. It started the first day I got a little giggle out of them. Now it’s the raucous laughter of little people being chased by Opa who snatches them up to give them a “zurbert” (the forceful exhaling on the neck or belly that causes a tingling vibration). They even know the magic code words to use in order to force me to do my job.

“Opa, I got pizza in my belly!” They somehow know that that phrase and anytime they use the word “Actually” is like flashing a red cape to taunt a bull. I sniff the air as they slowly back up with their smiles and sparkling eyes. They carefully watch me knowing that they have somehow become invisible as I look up and around the area asking over and over “Do I smell pizza?”

Suddenly their invisibility shield is gone. They instinctively know it by letting out a joyful scream and the chase is on! Around the table, out of the kitchen and into the dinning room, through the front foyer into the living room, around the sofa and coffee table, through the hall and back into the kitchen. Over and over again. Even their dogs and cat join in the chase. But Opa is a tricky old fox that sometimes quickly reverses direction and snatches one up as they are looking back not expecting me to be in front of them.

But there are rules. They become invisible again if they sit quietly on Grandma’s lap and cover their eyes or pull the comforter over their heads. Then I have to go searching for them until I suddenly disappear without a sound behind a door or around a corner out of view waiting to pounce. As I wait, they courageously leave the safety of Grandma and stealthily move about peeking around corners to try and sneak up on Opa until with a roar I become visible again and the game begins anew. They run only hoping to get caught because that’s when I do my best work. I know every tickle spot on their bodies and can get to most of them faster than they can get a cloaking shield activated.

What’s even more fun for my grandkids is when during the course of a conversation another family member uses the word “Actually”. Immediately all attention becomes focused on the speaker, the room mysteriously becomes quieter until a little voice says something like, “Mommy you said… but doesn’t complete the sentence knowing not to divert the red cape away from Mommy or Daddy an Aunt, Uncle or family friend that unwittingly has just punched the clock for Opa to do his job.

“Oh No! Mommy yells. “What did I say?” “You said the word comes the answers. Followed by a verbal exchange along the lines of … “What word?” “You know the word that makes Opa do his job.” “What word is that?” “I can’t say it, but you said it.” “Said what?” Until comfortable with a head start, to escape what they know is coming, the reply comes… “You said ACTUALLY !” … and the fun begins again.

Ask any of my grandchildren or friends their age who have been around when I’m present, “What’s Opa’s Job?” and without hesitation the answer will be, “To tickle me!”

I must be pretty good at doing my job. The other day while I was in the supermarket I heard a strange tiny voice say, “Actually, I have pizza in my belly!” When I turned around I saw a little guy running down the aisle laughing.