I just finished a two week visit with the three grands. (And two with the three ‘aint bad.)

Their house is undergoing a refinement and they needed a place to stay.

(Me, the effervescent grammy, with hand in the air) “Oh, pick me, pick me!!”

They needed a place to stay. I needed them to stay with me. It was a win-win situation. It was also exhausting, and I’m not even their mom — who for sure was 100 percent more exhausted than me, especially since she is about 65 percent done growing grand baby number four.

It was a loud couple of weeks. But it was also a time filled with giggles and laughter and no one wanting to go to bed. Well, except their mom. And me.

But we aren’t counting grown-ups in this equation, because it isn’t about the grown-ups when there is a candy store in town. We have three of them — candy stores, not grands.

Well, we have three of those, too — until September when the grands will officially outnumber the candy stores.

Imagine a two-year-old entering a building filled with many variations of brightly colored candies in large clear glass cases located at eye level with scoopers and bags for the ready.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. I saw it firsthand. His smile rivaled a sunrise crossed with the most exciting roller coaster ever invented, plus maybe a sparkler or two.

We handed him a bag and told him to fill it. With candy!

Life is good when you are a two-year-old at the candy store.

Sweetness aside, It was a time of blanket forts and dancing in the living room, sometimes at the same time. There was pretend play and an unwillingness to share stuffys, despite the fact that we have more of them than there are lakes in Minnesota. 

Besides, it’s a well known fact among four-year-olds that the monkey stuffy is twice as valuable as the unicorn stuffy, unless you pair it with the bunny stuffy or (even better) the dinosaur stuffy.

Stuffed animals (and blanket forts) in the living room weren’t the only plethora we experienced. 

It was a time of collections - of many kinds. We collected rocks and shells. Oh, and leaves. And twigs.  And so many, many ants (not to be confused with aunts, we didn’t collect any of those.)

We collected sand in the bed — even on days when we didn’t visit the beach. I’m not sure how to explain that, except for the fact that my grands excel at sand collection, most especially between their toes.

We even collected one deer tick, found (thankfully) before he — or she — got the chance to be comfortable. After that, we practiced tick checks every night before showering to wash the day’s stickiness (and tickiness) away.

It was a time of loud “pooping” announcements, followed by raucous cheering. Remember the environment: two-year-old, potty trainer in the ready, discovering he could control pooping. You catch my drift. 

Yeah, pooping! Let’s go! Great job! (Literally)

It was a time of wasted food because who wants to eat meals when you can eat candy? I think we all know that is a facetious question. I made meatloaf one night, but they only wanted bananas and tater tots. I guess two out of three ain’t bad. (Did I say that already?)

Thing is, they left most of the bananas uneaten. You’d think bananas grew on trees.

Oh wait. Maybe they do.

Grandchildren, however, do not. They are one in a million. Or maybe even one in a billion.

Life is good when you are a grammy spending time with grands. Almost like being in a candy store, only better.

— Jill Pertler’s column Slices of Life appears regularly in the Times. She can be reached at slicescolumn@gmail.com.