The big enchilada

I had lunch with my grandson today. The one who is two weeks younger than Laura and has bicycled halfway across the country. According to my texts, he invited me to lunch “sometime”, at least a month ago.  He had the day off school today, so it was a date.

France wanted to plug his blog, Summit Venture, which has a couple new posts on his summer plans. He biked a hundred miles around Cleveland yesterday. He used the MetroParks and the Towpath Trail for much of the ride, but his route definitely took him through downtown Cleveland. “I guess your mom lets you ride on the roads now,” I said. He deigned no reply.

A few mouthfuls into his burger, he did get down to business. How are the DC plans coming? Over his spring break he plans on riding a 350 mile towpath trail from Pittsburgh to DC—solo. Perhaps he might cross paths with his sister, his cousin and me. And, do those girls even have a plan yet for what they want to visit? I see there was some sibling sparring at his house. “Well, I don’t care what you do. Grandma Joanne is taking Laura and me to Washington DC for spring break!”

The big brother superiority crown slipped a little when I turned to the part of the trip to Monticello, Montpelier and Mt. Vernon, none of which he has visited. France has apparently quizzed Caroline enough to know I intend to take a walker with a seat and fold down foot rest. I will spend much of the trip being pushed down the National Mall. He smirked more than a little at the thought of a porter on each side, propelling Grandma to the Lincoln Memorial.

Halfway through the second bottle of ketchup and the order of fries he wound up taking home, France did pull out his phone and quiz me closely on dates and the name and location of our motel.  I do cotton on, sometimes sooner than later. As I paid the bill I said, “Francis, it would be lovely to see you in DC. You can even push the chair.”

He didn’t think so.

We stopped at a coffee shop on the way to the train stop. He paid for his with his phone. I used my card. I don’t portray grandsons so well as granddaughters, but I’m sure you’re following my amusement here. I pulled to the curb to drop him at the University Circle RTA, to take him over to Ohio City and his part time job, which is being banked toward a Jaguar. Excepting his coffee budget.

Before he left the car, he did thank me for lunch, and then added, “Hope to see you in DC. I’ll even push the chair.”

I picked up Laura after school, and there was an envelope for her in the mail. ‘Nuff said.