How do I love being a grandmother? Let me count the ways. I love that first amazing moment I held each little one and I’m still in awe I could instantly be so completely, head over heels in love. I love the excitement of inventing a “grand” ceremony to welcome our new four year old grandson. I love they all call me DD , my cue to slip into my alter ego. I love the wildflower walks (when I looked at the dried framed specimens my “first born” pressed last summer I feel a visceral tug of missing her). I love digging and measuring four equal garden squares for our planting project and can’t wait until they discover their elephant watering can surprises. I love having the perfect excuse to buy pipe cleaners, smelly pens and glitter pens, new crayons, and the sculpty clay my own kids loved, and glue sticks and paper and doilies and anything else that looks fun to stock the art bag. Even if their parents roll their eyes, I love letting this kid or that pick out healthy but sweet Lemur or chocolate koala cereal for my pantry so we are prepared for special breakfast when I have overnight guests, and I love, love love when those little visitors crawl wiggling in my bed in the morning, even before the sun comes up. I love sailing on the pirate ship that to the unseeing eye is just a play structure, or sharing a strawberry milkshake with my firefighter companion who has turned the slide into an emergency escape route. I love that they let me sing them their DD songs when I tuck them in. I even love playing Thomas the train, in measured doses, and definitely love wall papering a doll house together out of an old therapy box my dad made for me. I love cooking with my oldest, and hope he doesn’t notice I hold my breathe when he’s chopping or stirring a bubbling pot. I love a dinner date with my four-year-old world traveler on a magical Phuket beach, just us two. I love reading Uncle Wiggly, even to my big boy, and reading anything else to any of them. I love the hiking and biking and skiing and laughing and storytelling with all of them. I love little eyes that see the small bugs on my windshield, and a penny buried in the grass I’ve just walked over. I love that I can play the grandmother card and say no, I will not take them for their shots or to the dentist.
OK, so I can’t count the ways because I haven’t even scratched the surface……I’m so in love