Are you Granma Kate's Poppa?

I love being a grandfather.

I need to love it, as it has become a rapidly growing status as the population of those who refer to me as such grows. The latest 2 are a grandson and granddaughter born within about 9 weeks of each other. Funny, 9 week old Ensley, the grandson, looks HUGE compared to the new liddle darling Lauren (born last Thursday). Funny too, as he looks at her with a knowing stare "I remember back when I was like that...."

There are many good parts of it. One of them is getting congratulated. Oh yes, like I did anything?! I give the knowing smile in thanks, as though there was an ounce of effort. I just held the little dickens and made funny noises.

Another thing is the whole diaper thing. When the bottom vibrates, you look for a mom and "presto" - you are out of it. Nothing like being a grandfather.

But, best of all are the children who have grown and blessed me with this privileged title. My girls have all made me very proud to be the grandfather of their children. (Still waiting on the sons to reproduce...with some trepidation). They come from far and near to show them off and let me play with them. I teach them things (I haven't once succombed to the threat to teach them bad words), and I explain such unknowable things as "Poppa, what happened to you hair?".

Ah the imponderable.