My top tips for life with little ones

This week: As the New Year approaches, Granny passes on her hard-won advice as she makes way for a new columnist

‘What are you doing for New Year’s Eve, Mum?” asks my daughter.

One lesson I should have learnt since becoming a granny is that open-ended questions are dangerous. Yet I fall for it every time. “Just a quiet evening in with a nice film.”

“Great,” she says.

“So you wouldn’t mind babysitting then? I mean, you can do that at ours.”

That’s not quite true. It means we’ll have one eye on the baby monitor while also trying to work that devilishly clever television of theirs. But I also remember how much my first husband and I would have liked to have gone out on New Year’s Eve when the children were small, but we had no one to help.

So of course we will babysit. “Thanks, Mum.” My daughter gives me a big hug. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

I feel my eyes well up. I’m not going to pretend it’s been easy, juggling grannyhood with writing, not to mention time with Newish Husband (who’s more than proved his salt). But the welcoming cry of “Gan Gan!” from Rose every day – accompanied by her warm little arms around my neck – is more than enough payment. So too is that bemused smile from baby George. How many other grandparents have this special time?

“Quite a lot, actually,” points out NH. “We’re the unpaid childcare army. Theresa May would be in even more trouble if it wasn’t for us. In fact…”

I ignore his ranting and turn my attention to still-unopened Christmas cards. One is from a friend who’s about to become a granny for the first time. “I can’t wait,” she says. “Have you got any advice?” Where do I start? The first time you look after a grandchild on your own is utterly terrifying – even just for a few minutes. You will have forgotten everything. Every little limb feels like a breakable matchstick. But it really is like riding a bike. If you have the odd tumble, just don’t tell the parents (I’m joking).

Your new “accessory” means it’s more difficult to pass yourself off as 39. But it’s a terrific booster when you’re mistaken for the mother. Bad Gran and I have a running score. Hers is six. Mine is seven. (Yes!)

Thanks to Rose’s hectic playgroup social life, I’ve made new friends ranging from 18 to 88 and I’ve discovered the joy of hopscotch in the park.

You can never be right. At least, not at first. My daughter rightly poohpoohs my advice, just as I did to my own mother, and then admits I had a point. Try not to gloat.

Watch what you say. Toddlers are like parrots.

They also snitch. The “What did you do today?” is usually met with “hot chocolate”, “shopping” and “naughty Ganny”.

Just when you think you’ve got this granny stuff under control, it goes pear-shaped. In the leadup to Christmas, I was reading Rose a bedtime story when she suddenly leapt up and placed the weight of one foot firmly on her brother’s stomach as he was about to have his nappy changed. He yelled. I yelled. Daughter rang 111. By the time she’d answered a liturgy of questions, George was smiling. Warning: however careful you are, there will be similar panics.

Families are complicated but you can work it out. Next week, all six grandparents will be going to the panto. (Oh yes they are!) Of course, my experiences are just the tip of the iceberg.

As the New Year dawns, it’s time to make way for a new voice on this page. Thank you for the lovely comments, even though I chose to write this anonymously. If you want to keep up, you can follow us on diaryofafirsttimegran.wordpress.com.

Finally, to all new grandparents, good luck! It’s an amazing ride.

‘The first time you look after a grandchild on your own is utterly terrifying – even just for a few minutes’