We only visited my grandparents once every four or five years. So when we did it was special. I remember the closer we got to their house (after driving for hours on the New York State Thruway, the MOST boring road in the universe) I would get antsy. I knew what was coming. I had to get through the ‘hellos’. I HATED that part. All the hugging and kissing and “My, how you’ve GROWN!” comments. But the part I hated most was Grandpa’s mustache!I didn’t mind so much that it reminded me of Adolf Hitler.
What I hated was he’d hug me and kiss me and ‘tickle’ me with that mustache. But it didn’t tickle, it scratched! And left red marks on my neck! I hated those first few minutes of every visit. But once we got that out of the way it was fun!