(Not So) Subtle Hints for My Kids and Just a Little Whine
I’m old. *sigh* I’ve suspected it for a while, so it shouldn’t come as a shock, but it kind of does.
And it’s all Tanya’s fault.
Tanya Valentine is one of my writer pals (she is also the author of “All Bears Need Love,” a children’s book that covers the topic of interracial adoption—more on that next week.) Tanya has another children’s book in the works that the members of our writer’s group, the Inklets (myself, Tanya, Cathy C. Hall, Debra Mayhew, and Kara Bietz), are privileged to critique. When I e-mailed Tanya to confirm the target age group for her tale, I realized that I am an old bagger, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and now I’m working on total denial.
It occurred to me, through my e-mails to Tanya (ergo, her fault), that as soon as my great-nephew becomes a daddy (which should happen any day now) I will be a—gulp!—great-great-auntie. Now, I always knew I was a great, great auntie, but a great-great-auntie? Holy crow’s feet, Batman! That makes me an official old bagger . . . as if having a kid over the age of 30 doesn’t already qualify me, right? Still, it’s a shock to see those greats strung together.
“Grammy” is another word that might make me feel old, but I’ve yet to hear a little niblet call me that. (An aside to my children: Will one of you please get married and procreate already? I’m not getting any younger, you know.) I do have four grand-dogs and two grand-cats, but buying presents for them just isn’t the same as if they had opposable thumbs. For one thing, all the fur-babies care about is liver treats. I assume a human grandchild will like better-smelling yummies like milk chocolate and dark chocolate, cocoa and anything stamped “Hershey’s” or “Ghirardelli.” You know, stuff like that. I mean, if the kid has even a smidge of my DNA, the chocolate delight is a given. But, alas, liver snacks are the only thing in my foreseeable future.
And what do liver snacks remind me of? Liver spots, that’s what, and I’m edging into that territory now that the big “M” is putting in an appearance—and if you have to ask what the big “M” is then you’re too young to appreciate the nuances here, buttercup. Who coined the term “liver spots” anyway? Those unsightly little circles should be called “chocolate chippers.” So much nicer.
You see now how my brain works, and it’s a little scary, isn’t it? I’m like a squirrel on crack. My husband suffers concussions trying to follow my lines of logic. Poor man.
Okay, so we’ve established a few things here today. First, I’m old. Second, I know that I’m old and it’s totally Tanya’s fault that I’ve come to this realization. I wonder how she feels about that, being my friend and all? Third, I’m in denial about being old, I detest liver in any form, and I want grandchildren. Also, I’m soon to be a great-great-auntie which is a very good thing.
Since I couldn’t be a great-great-auntie or a Grammy (I’m nothing if not an optimist) without a little mileage on the chassis, I suppose I must conclude that being old has its perks. If I’m fair, I have to give Tanya credit for that realization, too, so thanks T. Guess you’re off the hook.
See you next week for the naked truth about . . . Tanya Valentine’s “All Bears Need Love.” Prepare to be charmed.
Have a great week y’all!