Yesterday, our granddaughter Reynna, 11, spent all day with us. Reynna is smart (and she will be the first to tell you so), funny, and totally charming. I delighted in her, in our time together. My husband said, "I could tell you were in grandma mode yesterday."
I admit it: I love being Grandma. It is a role I have prepared my whole life for, even though I didn't know it. At twenty, who thinks "I'm going to be a grandmother someday?" At that age, I was still in college, still wrapped up in myself. At thirty, I had three children, with two more added in the next few years. Grandmothering was still far away.
When Reynna was born, I fell in love. It happened again and again and again when three grandsons came along. As Grandma, I can be impulsive in a way I never could be as Mom. When Reynna was three, she spent a sleepover night with us. The following morning, she and I tried to decide what to have for breakfast. A brownie mix beckoned.
We made up the batter, then, unable to resist, we each dipped a finger in to it. It was more than good. I got us spoons, and we proceeded to each have another taste. One taste became two, two became three ... I'm sure you can guess the rest. We never baked the brownies. We spooned our way through the entire bowl of batter.
So, for today, I am grateful for grandchildren and the joy they bring into my life.