The best job in the world.

My mother claimed being a grandparent was the best and now that I’m at that stage of life, I heartily agree. I’m lucky to live a few blocks from my granddaughter and to see her nearly every day.

Every grandchild is special. I’d like to introduce you to the now four-year-old darling who is mine.

My grownup grandchild:

In the car, when Grandpa is ranting about another driver, she says, “Relax Grandpa.” She also corrects Grandpa’s Spanish pronunciation with a whole lot of exaggeration of the words for his benefit.

One morning Grandpa is helping little g with the workbook Santa brought her. She doesn’t think she has to follow his instructions and says, “Good bye, Grandpa. Don’t you have to go?” (He was on his way for coffee.)

My discerning grandchild:

Little g is a terrible sleeper. I sit by her bed and whisper sing (because I can’t sing worth a damn)  Rock-a-by-Baby. Suddenly she says, “Mommy, ayudame, ayudame. Grandma is crazy. No, Grandma. Stop! Mommy, grandma molestandeme con su cancion.”

Ayudame = help me   Molestandeme con su cancion = bugging me with her song

My helpful grandchild:

I start to get up from the sofa where I’m lying with an ice bag for my back. Little g says, “Don’t move. I have my job to do.” Then she comes over and gives me a kiss. Trying to lure me into the pool she says, “The water is cold. It will feel good on your back. Like the ice bag.”

When I can’t get the CD working in Grandpa’s car, the child, who is adept with Grandpa’s iPad, says, “Just push any button and see what happens.”

And music to this author’s ears:

Little g – What’s this?

Me – It’s a book for mommy to read if she wants to.

Little g – Oh, did you write it for her?

How can I not love every second I spend with her?

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