Okay, so I used to tease my mom all the time that she started wanting grandkids a few days after I was born. She's never denied it, and I've never understood it. Until now, that is. I guess I couldn't think past the whole being-old-enough-to-be-a-grandmother aspect. Anyway, now that I know and love my own son, I can totally see the draw of grandmotherhood.
First of all, grandma is everyone's favorite, isn't she? I know Henry is completely crazy for his 2 grandmas and his great-grandma. I mean, the clingy little monkey who wants me to carry him around all day will actually push my face away in his excitement to get to any of them. They love him and spoil him so much, it's no wonder he's head over heels. That's gotta be pretty gratifying.
Also, grandmas don't discipline much do they? Of course they don't let him get away with ANYTHING, but ... well, almost. That's as it should be, I understand. But still, I feel certain my parents never let me do a lot of the things that are so charming coming from their grandson.
And of course, the very idea of the child of my beloved child is pretty magical. Henry's so magnificent, I get excited about his pee (we're potty training, I'm not gross); I can only imagine how spectacular any child of his would be. I certainly don't want to rush through the years, but I have to admit I totally can't wait to hold each of his -hopefully many- babies in my arms. The very thought brings tears to my eyes. It must be pure joy to hold the magnum opus of your own magnum opus.
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