Another little bundle of joy brightens our lives
NOT long ago I thought the title for my autobiography would be “Eric and Me’ – referring to the impact my little grandson (now four and a half years old) was having on my life and the likelihood he would occupy the largest part of it into my advancing years.
Plans for future golf victories in major tournaments (for him, not me) were well under way.
Now, it appears I will have to change the title to “Eric, Millie and Me”.
Yes, just when my wife had given up all hope of another grandchild, along came little Millie (Camille on the certificate but forever Millie to us).
Millie has reduced my wife and I to a quivering, happy mess.
I’m the quivering one. Why?
Because, as my wife has told anyone who will listen, what I know about women can be written on a postage stamp with a felt pen – a very thick felt pen.
So I’m a bit shaky at the moment.
If I know so little about women, it is a dead cert that I know nothing about little girls.
It looks like a whole new experience for me – one that I never thought I would have.
So, pretend tea parties could be on the list of things to learn over the next few years.
Maybe I’ll have to take her to ballet lessons – a rite of passage that girls in my wife’s family seem unable to avoid.
Maybe she’ll drive trucks at a mine.
Whatever, there is no doubt there are a lot of interesting times ahead.
Or if I have my crafty way, she will be getting a set of golf clubs as soon as she can walk.
It will be a great double both grandchildren winning majors on the tour with me as the caddy and, most importantly, holder of the winner’s cheques.
Little Millie has wrapped her tiny fingers firmly around our hearts.
In fact, as hard as it is to believe, it appears my wife much prefers Millie’s company to mine.
She is spending a lot of time in Brisbane soaking up the joy of her first granddaughter.
She’s loving it.
She was born to be a
doting grandmother and mother.
As for me?
My wife’s increasing absence has meant more nights on the couch with a
litre of ice cream for company; a distinct lack of bed making in the mornings; and a diet that includes most things a sensible doctor would ban.
And the real bonus is an extra little grandchild to spoil rotten (when her parents are not looking, of course).
Until next time.