Friday, April 07, 2006

There's 'grandpa'....and then there's a couple 'papas'

I was just looking at the photos of us that were taken yesterday. (Thanks for the nice comments, btw) Though I suppose I'm partial, I think I just happen to have one of the prettiest daughters and granddaughters that ever walked the earth.

The grandbaby was soooo good yesterday. I just can't get over it. That six year old sat through that entire 2 hour funeral with no complaining, whining, crying or throwing herself on the floor...and very little 'wiggling'. Unfortunately, her "Me-me" can't say the same thing. Ok, so I didn't throw myself on the floor. I wanted to, though. But I was amazed and so proud of her.

When we were all milling around outside after the service, one of my daughter's biological father's aunts (I know...hell, even I can't keep track of all the 'family') came up to visit. She was talking to Karsin and asked her where "Grandpa" was, meaning HER nephew...Julie's real dad. I could see poor little Karsin's inner struggle as she thought about the answer.

Let me see if I can explain.

First, there's THE "Grandpa". He's Karsin's paternal grandfather, with whom she's very close. Then there's another 'grandpa', who is called "Papa B" ...that would be my ex-husband, the only father that my daughter's really ever had. Then there's another 'grandpa'..."Papa D"...that's Ziggy. Then there's her maternal grandpa (the one in question), who's never even been a real father, let alone pass for anything even close to resembling grandpa material.

Finally, deciding that if it was something called "Grandpa", she must be referring to THE grandpa, she said, "He's home." Which totally confused the aunt, as the grandpa SHE was referring to was standing directly across the street.

That's what ole Aunt R gets for askin a stupid question. hehe

Luckily, Karsin only has a "Grandma" (her paternal grandma) and a "Me-me" (that would be to keep straight. Which brings me to my next little story.

Karsin and I shared the backseat as we drove out to the cemetery. She was chattering all the way, per usual. I don't remember exactly what she was talking about, but she made the statement that "Grandma is nice."

Quickly glancing at me, she must've thought I was offended, which I absolutely wasn't. She sees her paternal grandparents far more often than she does me and I'm tickled she has such a great relationship with 'em. And I'm NOT nice, though she's too young to realize it yet. hehe

Squinching up her eyes and nose, motioning with her hand in a dismissive gesture, she said, "YOU'RE nice too...of course."

Six? I'd swear ta gawd that sometimes she's twenty six.


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