Grandchildren are blessings, plain and simple. No, I'm not going to bore you with those "look at what xxx did, it was so cute" or heaven help me, post pictures of one of ours resulting in the unspoken solicitation of remarks on how adorable/cute/ugly/wonderful the child looks. Instead, I'm going to expand on the blessings aspect which really has nothing at all to do with the actual grandchild.
At some point I had offspring and had a hand in raising them. During that time I heard the "I hate you!" or "You never let me do anything!" or "Why do I have to clean up my mess?". There were those times when I had to enforce a necessary rule, invoke the wrath of the mother or exercise discipline and of course questioned on where I might have gone wrong to have deserved such toils and tribulations. Now that I'm the grandparent I've found that it is all hereditary - and in a way a method of paying it forward. I'm sure there is some quantum physics involved.
Grandchildren are the way, the truth, and the light in how a parent gets even for all of the torment their own children heaped upon them for years upon years. As grandparents it is our job, no, our solemn duty to train up the wee ones so they in turn can torment their own parents. This culminates in today's parents raising children who become parents themselves, having children turning today's' parents into grandparents and renewing this wonderful cycle. See, its quantum.
Did I mention we were visiting our grandchildren? I may post more after our tour of the toy store to find those really obnoxious noisy toys parents love so well. Or maybe not, there's still the ice-cream and other sugary delights to pick up. Yes, grandchildren are a blessing.