People say there is nothing better than being a grandparent, and I must agree! My grandson will soon be three, and I am not sure where the time went. He’s gone from a swaddled little bundle who loved nothing more than being rocked to sleep by his grandmother to a little boy who merely tolerates her existence—and that’s only because I live in the same house as his favorite person, his grandpa (or Hampa as my darling boy calls him). I have failed Grandparenting 101. Good news! We have a second one on the way so I get a redo!
I think it’s important when you’ve failed to look back at your actions and identify where you went wrong, so that’s what I will be doing for the next couple of months. This is not one of my imaginary “issues.” My beautiful, smart grandson just isn’t my fan. When he is told to give Nana a kiss, he puts the top of his head in front of me. I must have cooties, and his hair will protect him. When I suggest we do something he doesn’t want to, he makes the same face I do at unhelpful suggestions. I have to tell you, I truly appreciate that at age 3, he can already contort his face to show utter disdain.
Let me be clear. My little one is never rude or mean; he just prefers other people. I am about 15th on his list. So, when the new baby comes, I’m going to see if I can either move up on my grandson’s list or ingratiate myself into the new baby’s life so they prefer me over Hampa.
I will start by not singing. Hampa had a playlist of James Taylor songs to rock the baby to sleep. I stuck to the more traditional method of singing to the baby. Sadly, and I am going to blame my wonderful long since deceased parents for this, I don’t know any lullabies. Both of my children were rocked to sleep with me singing “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?,” showtunes and TV commercial jingles. Why is this my parents’ fault? I think my brain should have been imprinted with the lullabies they sang me, but I suspect I too might have gotten TV jingles.
Next, I will be generous with powdered donuts. Hampa has a sweet tooth, and as soon as my grandson could manage to grind up food, he introduced him to one of his basic food groups. Who wouldn’t want to be around the guy that gives you stuff that crumbles up, tastes delicious and makes a mess?
I will appear to act like I am a little bit crazy. This includes, wiggling around in a tunnel even if you are worried you might get stuck, making loud noises just because you can, setting up racecar tracks that shoot across the entire house and knocking down anything that you have just built. In other words, I will try to have fun instead of worrying about rules, getting hurt or nicking a piece of furniture.
If none of this works, I will buy my grandson off. When he is older, he will need cold hard cash. Hampa is a little tight with his wallet. Nana thinks her grandson should have the world. One of these days, I’m moving up the list. Peace my peeps.
