Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I don't have any grandkids, that I know of. But when I do, I'll be darned if I'm going to let one of those little rug rats - irrestistible though they may be - call me "Grandma." That's why I loved this column in the Contra Costra Times.
When my son was born, my mother (at age 48) was fiercely determined to avoid the moniker of "Grandma" or - gasp! - "Granny."
"Let's just tell him my real first name and see what he comes up with," she suggested. "That will be my grandmother name!"
Well, with a name like Mignon, the possibilities of adorable mispronunciation were endless, but all my less-than-creative baby could come up with was "Eyom." (Fortunately, nobody ever pointed out to Mom the obvious similarity to "Eeyore.") And that's the name that's stuck for 26 years.
Chances are, I'll have a few more years to worry about what my grandchildren might utter when they cry out for milk and cookies in my kitchen. In the meantime, I'll consider giving this book to my "granny" friends in the hopes of getting their crib notes when the time comes for me.
Comments
rockandrollgrandma (rockandrollgrandma) says...
Now what if I said that.
July 15, 2008 at 7:59 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
cathy (cathy) says...
Yes, but yours is a compound name, with "rockandroll" to counterbalance the old lady effect! It's brilliant, really.
July 15, 2008 at 8:06 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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