A few days ago, our granddaughter Reynna spent the night with us. One of my favorite things to do with Reynna is to play the piano while she sings. While my playing is lack-luster, Reynna's singing is not. She has a beautiful soprano voice, sure and true.
It is not difficult to find joy in Reynna. She is at once sassy and spiritual, lovely and lively. She keeps me on my toes and reminds me that I will never be able to keep up with her. That's all right. Grandmas are not supposed to keep up with their grandchildren. They are supposed to spoil them, to protect them, to be their cheerleaders.
That, I can do.
You may remember an earlier post where I wrote of the time when a much younger Reynna and I shared brownie batter for breakfast. (If you haven't tried it, you should. It's fabulous.) Well, we've progressed. For breakfast, Reynna had tacquitos. For lunch, she had tacquitos. And for dinner? You guessed it: tacquitos. Not the most nutritious of meals, but tacquitos are her favorite, so that is what we had.
So, for today, I am grateful for the miracle that is Reynna.