I've only known Henry for less than two months but feel compelled to keep in touch with the guy.

It’s not because he's the kind of person who will do anything for you. He isn’t. It’s not because he's a great conversationalist. His vocabulary is extremely limited.

The guy is pretty much self-absorbed. His needs appear to be paramount, no matter what challenges others are facing.

He simply doesn't care.

And to tell you the truth, sometimes, just sometimes, Henry doesn't smell very good.

Yet I remain a friend to Henry despite his carefree feelings about his hygiene, despite his narcissism.

Part of the reason is I believe he will outgrow these tendencies, hopefully. The other reason is Henry is my grandson.

You have to forgive the guy for his foibles. He was only born on March 2. Plus he's learned a lot in the past six or so weeks, probably more than you have.

I first saw his fine back of the head with thick brown hair that a grandfather would envy the day after he was born. He was moody but fairly quiet.

At that point we were thrilled when he would open those baby-blues for just a second. “He's got his eyes open, he's looking at me!” someone would say. Everyone would run over to see.

A day later we had to bid adieu to the Henrymeister and go back to the trenches of everyday work. When I was a kid reading stories about kids with grandparents, they were always gray, smiling and operated nearby farms.

Well, we aren't all gray, we rarely smile and we don't own a farm. And we live better than three hours away from the little guy.

It's a funny thing about that. We would see son Derek and daughter-in-law Jess (not Jessie) every few months and talk a few times a week on the phone. But suddenly with Henry there, we must visit every few weeks. In between, we want to hear him make sounds on the phone.

Wonder if that is something they didn't bargain for when they decided to have Henry?

So within a few weeks, we were back to visit Henry and now he had his eyes open a lot. He liked to suck on his fist. Where he once hated his bath, these days he didn't mind.

And rattles and mobiles suddenly caught his attention.

Over the Easter holidays, we stopped to visit him and a few days later, he actually made his debut trip to Ohio. Where was Gov. Strickland?

There he was the subject of a couple of get-togethers, sort of meet and greets, so Henry could become familiar with his extended family and they could meet him. Henry for the most part was cordial, although I suspect the others were more interested in meeting Henry than vice versa.

He did have great interest in his cousin Lauren, who for 14 years was the youngest Lebzelter until his debut.

Henry is an emotional boy. He appears content one second, followed by crying. Ironically during his Ohio visit, I got out my “Emotional Rescue” CD by the Rolling Stones and we did some dancing and it quieted him. I think he was too confused to be upset.

Back in the early 80s, his father and I danced to the same CD, well, except it was on eight-track at the time.

He's learned and changed a lot in the past six weeks. When we don't see the little guy, we take solace in watching him in high-definition videos.

My digital camera allows me to take more photos of him then I ever could with Derek and I regularly pile my results onto Facebook for those interested. Henry visits are highly concentrated photographic moments. My Canon takes 3.2 pictures per second.

So that's my grandfatherly column. You young wipersnappers better have read this thoroughly. Why, when I was young, we respected columns about grandchildren. Not like kids today.

Eh, not really. Just thought I needed to act curmudgeonly at the end of this column.

Next week I will write about something cool and hip dynamic.

Well, unless I find Henry has smiled again.