This coming Monday, our great-granddaughter turns 3
years old. We’ll be having a party, of course on Sunday—this time at her
maternal grandmother’s home which is, oddly, just a few doors down from our
house.
Abby is a singularly formidable little girl. She knows
what she knows and she wants what she wants, and that is it. I’m delighted to
have a front row seat to the show, to be perfectly honest. I’m very grateful
that I don’t ever have to be the person responsible for her, and therefore on
the front line, dealing with her on a daily basis. She really is quite a
handful.
I predict, that if she can turn that charm and
determination and force of personality in the right direction when she gets
older, then she will go very far in life.
Just as grandchildren were different from children, so,
too, great-grandchildren are different yet again. There’s another layer of
separation, which is a good thing. Most great-grandparents are much older than
we are. By the time our grandbabies have babies, we’ve usually earned the right
to just sit and smile. For the most part, that is what we do. We see her and her
brother on a fairly regular basis. When they come for supper, we spend time
with them, of course—and then they go home, and our house returns to it’s quiet,
natural state.
A week ago, we’d just returned from Pennsylvania. It’s
not a long drive down to visit our friends—about six hours. Our daughter
accompanied us as she has the last few times, and we took the dog, as well. Our
daughter joins us each year for two reasons. The first is so she can have a few
days when she doesn’t have to be responsible for anyone. Her job is a very busy
and taxing one, and her son and his family live with her, so times of peace and
quiet are few for her. She brings her e-reader, and spends at least a couple of
days in her jammies—except when she changes to go to the pool.
Her other reason for accompanying us is to go shopping.
It isn’t a question of cheaper prices, either. It's because the selection of
products available is so much different down there than it is up here. When she
isn’t buying things for her dogs, she is shopping for her
grandbabies.
Some of what she bought on this trip was for their
birthdays. Abby’s celebration is first, and her brother, Archer, has his next
month, in September when he’ll turn 2. The day before we headed home, our
daughter carefully packed two little gift bags, to be given to the kids on her
return. The rest of what she purchased for them was craftily hidden in her
luggage, awaiting their birthday parties.
Of the things my daughter bought her granddaughter to
receive as soon as she got home was a pretty summer dress, and “princess shoes”.
Abby is a girly girl, a complete opposite of her nanny, who was a tomboy. She
loves dressing up, and she absolutely loves anything that is sparkly or shiny.
Those shoes were both. Of course, she had to have them on as soon as she saw
them.
My daughter was pleased with herself, and I’m certain we
can all relate. There’s something very satisfying when you give your
grandchildren gifts they love. Well, Miss Abby loved her dress, she loved the
toys, but she really, really loved those princess shoes.
She loved them so much she refused to take them off for
bed.
I don’t know how they handled the situation, exactly. I
do know that it involved a fight. Abby can be quite insistent in getting her
way, and she can also, I have seen, eye a person with what I swear is cunning
calculation. Yes, she will go far when she is older.
Another thing about being a great granny is that family
tends not to ask me for advice. That’s fine. I do believe in letting parents and
yes, even grandparents, figure things out on their own. But I’ve begun to slide
into what I consider the golden reward for having endured so many years and
generations of my own family. I’ve begun simply giving my advice, without a care
as to whether it’s wanted or taken or not.
Of course, I had two suggestions on the subject. The
first was that they could have convinced her that her shoes could sleep beside
her in her bed—because after all, since they spent so much time with her, they
had to be tired, too.
Or her parents could have simply let the little girl
fall asleep in her shoes. They would be easy enough to remove when she’s
snoring.
Love,
Morgan
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