We were having dinner with our oldest daughter and her husband when she casually announced that they were selling the queen-sized bed in their guest room. I asked her why in the world they were doing that (we had slept many nights on that comfy bed as guests). She said with a grin, “Because we are going to put a crib in there!”
It was that magical moment that I saw myself as a grandma for the first time.
One of the first things we discussed was what my husband and I would be called by this new grandchild. Grandma and grandpa? No, my son-in-law’s parents would probably be called that. My husband wanted to be called Papa J (which sounded suspiciously like a rapper), but I had no idea.