I'm feeling sad that my Sawyer doesn't yet know Grammy's face and voice. He doesn't know my genuine cackle, or my crazy dog. He hasn't figured out that I have lost most of my common sense in raising children which has led me to become an indulgent granmama. He doesn't know that a shrug or a maybe means "most likely." Nor does he know that my role as Grammy has become my most treasured persona. It is a sense of pride, a sense of "I made it without having to kill myself getting there" (hmmmm...), a sense of glory that has shoes to fill that are larger than the giant's at the top of the beanstalk. I didn't see Sawyer Brady emerge into the Outer World, nor see his momma at nine months pregnant. He will have to trust Jack's opinion I guess. He will have to see Jack's stable, chunky legs leap into my arms and nestle his face into my neck. He will have to hear Jack make some ridiculous grunt that is his dog sound when he lays eyes on Willow. He will have to experience his mother's face when Jack hands Tillie Horse a carrot, and his fingers are too close to her big, grinding teeth (but never really close enough). And he will definitely have to fit on my lap with Jack while we play fetch with Willow. Willow
never fetches and retrieves the toy unless we are playing with Jack. She thinks it's a game of keep-away, unless Jack is bouncing up and down with me chanting, "There she goes, there she goes!" Then "Here she comes, here she comes!" It doesn't work for her if it is just plain old Linda without Granma attached. So I trust that my Sawyer will have plenty of opportunities to explore the natural world with me. I have to trust that he will find my eccentricities as alluring as Jack. Yet, truly, there is no doubt. Sawyer will feel my full heart and if he's anything like me and Jack, will most likely know that Grammy's lap is very close to a throne.
