I’m new to this grandparenting lark. From what I’ve seen so far, its fantastic. I get to stare at the most gorgeous baby in the world, as long as I like. And I do like. She’s wonderful. Not that I’ve seen her with eyes open yet, but there’s time for these things. No rush. I know what you’re thinking: all babies are gorgeous, everyone thinks theirs is the best. Which is normally true, but little Lila really IS the best. I’ve done a poll. And both Mel and I agree. So that’s final. And babies are all gorgeous, they have to be. If not they really wouldn’t survive the first 3 months of incessant demands and attention-seeking, let alone bed-wetting and shitting themselves. If you tried that; I’d kill you, no question.

People who aren’t grandparents just don’t understand. Ok, that was me until yesterday morning too, but now I’ve seen the light. Because people say ‘oh, so shall we cancel dinner then, you’re grandparents now’, or ‘oh, so you won’t be playing tennis will you, you’ll be grandparenting’.

Wrong. On all counts. (Misconception number 1) And that is what makes grandparenting special. You get to choose. Ok, we accept that we’re on call 24 hours a day, or with elder daughter, possibly 29 hours a day, and we like that. But its really not like the whole world stops with the birth of a grandchild and there’s no return whatsoever allowed. That’s called ‘becoming a parent’.

Grandparents are different. We need to spend all our time (misconception number 2) worrying about what the baby will call us. Grandpa? Grandad? Poppa? (Then come the Jewish ones) Zaida, Zaidee, Oompah, Kinderfarterfarter (German/Yiddish, very literal), Schmendrick (only stupid grandfathers) or Wally (my grandfather). And the truth is: I don’t give a shit what the baby calls me, as long as she keeps calling me. Not like she can speak yet anyway.

Mel will NOT be a Booba, Gran, Granny, Nanny, anything even vaguely goatish or Fanny. Her grandmother’s tragically anachronistic name. She wants to be ‘Grandma’ and nothing else. Good luck with that, 2 syllables, hmmmm.

When people ask me what I want to be called I just answer ‘Kevin’. I have no idea why. Prince George calls his grandad ‘Sir’. Or possibly, ‘Princely’. Everyone else calls his grandad Schmendrick. So there’s obviously no real rules.

Well, I better get back to baby-staring or name-working.

Very happy Sunday

Dorothy
xxxx