I have this little grandson

Third time is the charm; here is my third and final version of this piece.

I have this little grandson called Eden. He used to give us earnest looks that said he was checking us over and getting a hang on his new surroundings. He wasn’t being judgemental or anything, just curious, as you are when you’re brand new to a place. It took seven weeks of surveillance but Eden must have approved of his little world; he smiles. And Eden communicates, including his whole family in the conversation: na da, ma da, and giggle giggle; and he bounces when you hold him upright. What a child!

Eden was born with a shock of black hair and has what we used to call piano fingers long and fine and supple; an indicator to both his paternal and maternal grandfathers who are very musical themselves that it’s a sign of harmonious things to come. Family and friends sat around the hospital bed checking out the new born arrival and there were a lot of comparisons happening: the grandfather’s expression, the mother’s eyes and what long legs for a baby, he’s going to be tall like his daddy. Certain favourable comparisons were made regarding receding hairlines. Everyone was satisfied to find a bit of themselves in Eden.

Eden turned his smile on in his seventh week (or according to his daddy, and he has the photos to back him up, on the third day) and he hasn’t stopped since. Actually I would call it more of a grin than a smile. And Eden is not selective about the recipients of his benevolence; old, young, beautiful, ugly; everyone and everything in his line of sight gets a big dose. I often wonder what he could be thinking that produces such a radiant grin. My theory is that he’s expressing his approval of us and the world around him.

Eden is my third grandchild and people ask if I’m feeling blasé about it all. I say I’m just as excited this time round. Children are like the poppies I used to bring home each Spring and put in a vase. Every morning one or two buds would slowly open and reveal their colours to me. It gave me more pleasure than that first vital caffeine fix in the morning.

Children will do things or say things that seem to come out of left field that (unsurprisingly) can surprise. This is because they are a mix of their maternal and paternal genes; a combination of parents and extended family. Sometimes a long distant childhood memory allows us to decode something our children or grandchildren do or say, but sometimes not. Granddaughter Dezzy is developing an artistic flair; I haven’t gone past drawing stick figures. In the past couple of months Eden’s hair has gone from black to a lovely reddish hue that he gets from his dad.

It’s exciting now that I have the time and the energy, to watch my darling buds slowly opening to reveal their colours. Rachel has turned six. She has her daddy’s curly hair and loving personality. She also has a stubborn streak that I can’t trace to anyone, perhaps a throwback somewhere in time. The good thing is that if we appeal to her reason or ask for understanding she shows a kind heart. Dezzy is fiercely loyal to all things family and loving like her dad. We’re watching her heading towards those teenage years faster than you can say watch out, early bloomer on the horizon. I am counting on her strength of character to allow her to pass through that phase unscathed.

I love being a grandma it’s a job that suits me like no other, the only profession where old age is actually a requirement. I will never be a matriarch like a friend who has four children and three grandchildren already and more anticipated. But I’m doing all right. I have found my niche. Grandchildren think that wrinkles equate with wisdom and the good thing is that given a good dictionary and the capacity to love unconditionally there’s not much you can do wrong to disillusion them.

It’s a freeing experience to finally leave the responsibilities behind and have fun anticipating without the discomfort of the pregnancy, the exhausting late nights and the constant worries about what kinder and which school and how to afford them. Nice to know that old age has some perks.

We used to say Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man, Thief. I’m hoping that it’s not going to be the last two. (You can be happy and honourable and still be poor.)

I have this little grandson called Eden. I don’t know what he will make of the world or what the world will make of him. I can only say that I will still love him, no matter what.