The Best Laid Plans
When I was a child I was surrounded by Babas.
My own Granny, my great Aunty, my cousin’s Granny… All of them were called Baba. They were old, old ladies. They wore skirts down to their feet, and aprons, and babushkas. And walked with a stick (that could be swung at a kid’s backside when they figured it was needed)
And I swore, “I’m never ever gonna be a Baba”. I can be a Grandma, Granny,Grandmother. Whatever. But never Baba.
Last time I visited my wee Kaytlin, my son said “Go see Grandma”, and she looked all around the room with a frown on her face. She’d seen the other Grandma last.
So… now I’m Baba. She loves her Baba, and not only that she can say it! It’s really not so bad after all.
But I need to dig out my babushka, it’s down the basement somewhere.
February 23rd, 2010 at 6:56 am
Awwww, that’s really very sweet.
February 23rd, 2010 at 7:42 am
Haha!!!
February 23rd, 2010 at 9:29 am
I’m glad you’re back on. I could really relate to your last post on the septic tank. We’re only about 160miles from you more or less, so the weather, the cell phone signal thing, all of it–we get it.☺☺
February 26th, 2010 at 9:34 am
And the apron – you can’t forget the apron! C’mon it could even come in handy keeping your clothes clean the next time life hands you an unexpected clean-up! (like that’ll ever happen…) LOL!
March 8th, 2010 at 2:50 pm
It’ll be OK! My son, then an infant, labeled me “Da Baba” and no woman in my family has ever owned an apron. An apron over jeans? Absurd! But we’re big on bandanas.