On being a Grandad
Becoming a grandad is a simple enough process.
It’s best to start as a young fellow and the trick is to get some female up the pole. This is quite a pleasant process and can [and will] be attempted many many times.
Once the dear girl is up the duff your path to grandadhood can be left to nature. Your spawn [or even a swarm of spawn] can be allowed grow to maturity whereupon they undoubtedly will head out on the same quest. And here is the good bit. As soon as they have produced issue then you may bask in the title of Grandad. While this is an honorary title, it may have a practical side too.
Yesterday I was sitting here doing a bit of idle nothingness when my phone rang. It was Daughter. She wanted to know if I could pick up GrandDaughter the Younger from school.
I should add a this point that Daughter has a new job. She is now officially a Carer, employed by our infamous health service, to care for the elderly and infirm in their own homes. This is a post she is over qualified for having spent twenty years as a carer of Grandson the Elder and also having worked with the ambulance service. Having done some extra training this was her first full week on the job itself. She’s loving it.
Back to the phone call. GDtY was complaining of tummy aches and her school wanted to know if Daughter could bring her home. Daughter of course was having a fine time bossing and terrorising the aged and infirm and could hardly just walk off especially as it was her first week. Hence the phone call. Could I collect GDtY from school and amuse her until Daughter was free? No problem. That’s what Grandads are for.
So I went up to the school and phoned the secretary to say I had arrived. She came out leading a very subdued GDtY by the hand. She [GDtY, not the secretary] was very quiet in the car which is unusual. Normally I would get a running commentary on life for the entire journey but not this time. Once home she climbed on the couch, curled up and went to sleep. This also very unusual as normally within a few minutes she would have the entire floor covered in toys and stuff and looking like a building site.
All was quiet for a while but GDtY suddenly sat up and puked all over the place. I rang Daughter to inform her of progress and her reply was “ah! So she does have a tummy upset?” Obviously Daughter thought GDtY was just pulling a sickie to get off school. Heh!
So the rest of the afternoon was spent rushing around with basins and kitchen paper and towels, interspersed with watching a very quiet subdued seven year old curled up on the couch. All I wanted to do was somehow make her feel better.
Now that’s what being a Grandad is really for.
What was Penny doing when this was going on?
Helping or hindering? They sometimes have interesting reactions.
The couch where GDtY was lying on is very much Penny’s territory [in Penny’s mind anyway] so she spent the time trying out the best way to reclaim it. She was too polite to carry out her invasion though.
“It’s best to start as a young fellow”
I guess that counts me out…
Ah you never know when the chance may come along?
Until you’d belatedly clarified the age of the poorly party, some could have interpreted the symptoms as indicating that you may be on your way to becoming a great-grandad. Phew.
Yes. I think seven is a little early to start. Mind you, they seem to be getting younger each generation?
Nearing seventy, I have become a father once more. I had forgotten the sudden projectile vomiting – without warning – and watch in wonder as the crud reaches every corner of the room. And when it’s all been cleared up and I sit in my favourite armchair for a bit of regathering, the familiar dry-heaves begin once again. She does seem to be bright though, and certainly has a great sense of fun for one so young; apparently, lying on the floor and eating something you found under the chair is great sport and she’s discovered that our grumpy old cat provides endless amusement as toys are shoved unceremoniously up its fundament.
I should explain that Jessie is a jet black six-month old Labrador X German Shepherd and the most beautiful soul I’ve met in quite a while. Fatherhood can be a blessing now and then.
You had me worried for a moment there. Fatherhood is indeed a blessing provided your family has a minimum of four legs each. Though I’m a bit dubious about cats.
Would it not be simpler for you to go out as carer for the HSE and Daughter to mind the Manor?
Don’t I have enough caring to do here at the Manor? Anyways, put Daughter and Herself in a room for a day and probably only one would survive unscathed. I’m not saying which one….
My lads seem, thus far, to lack the philoprogenitive instinct. I’m the only one of my sibs to reach replacement quantities. I am somewhat concerned. They are young yet, in the callow mid-20s. With age (I am told) comes wisdom and responsibility. Still waiting!
Maybe it’s the responsibility bit that’s putting them off? That would be a wise move.