Posted by Grandma on May 20, 2016
“Grandma will you read to me?” My six year old granddaughter asked. Sure, I loved to read stories to my grandchildren. The book she placed on my lap was about where babies come from. The cover photo was of a mother holding her newborn. I could tell this wasn’t a cabbage patch or here comes the stork type book. I know there was more honesty about these things nowadays and thought I can handle that. Well, when I started reading the book I could have kicked myself for not perusing it more thoroughly. There were proper anatomical names. Words I didn’t know until I was in my twenties. I did my best to cover photos and skipped many paragraphs. I didn’t know how to stop without drawing attention to what I thought was inappropriate for a six year old.
As it turned out mom thought so as well when she came into the room and found me reading one of the books in a series she’d purchased. The one I was reading was meant for years down the road. My granddaughter had picked it because of the cover. She loves babies. I finished the book as quickly as I could. So now we both knew better. Mom to place some books out of reach of little hands and me, do a quick preview.
Time goes on and you think little minds forget. Not so. Their brains are like sponges, eyes and ears are everywhere but what I’m referring to is the book I read on the story of birth. My granddaughter got a new baby doll. She fed it, changed its diaper, loved it and you may have already guessed it…
My youngest son came over to borrow a tool. He had called earlier so we had it ready for him at the door. No sooner had he stepped in when my granddaughter slips her baby doll out from under her skirt for its debut. Oh no. I hope my son doesn’t make a fuss. But quick thinking as he is he says, “she’s sunny side up, turn her over.” And that was the end of it, for now.