There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. We’re having a
baby. Well, not
”
we
”
exactly, as in Mr. H. and I. Rather, we are getting a brand new
granddaughter. Not that there was anything wrong with the old one,
mind you, but a new baby sister was about to arrive.
There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. We’re having a baby. Well, not “we” exactly, as in Mr. H. and I. Rather, we are getting a brand new granddaughter. Not that there was anything wrong with the old one, mind you, but a new baby sister was about to arrive. This meant while Daughter No. 1 and her hubby were at the hospital “picking out” new baby Emily, someone needed to watch “old” baby Gracie, age 21 months. So Mr. H. and I headed for Southern California. Yep: It was going to be Grandparents on duty.
Now this assignment should have been a snap because Gracie and I are pretty tight. We go back a long way. I spent the better part of Gracie’s first year taking care of her in Long Beach while her parents worked full time. I learned about all the latest baby accessories while discovering modern baby gear involves massive numbers of batteries, music and moving parts. It made me wonder how my parents managed to bring up my brother and me without anything fancier than an old pot and a wooden spoon to bang it with. That was big-time fun back in the day.
But I digress. Nearly two years ago, when Gracie was born, I diligently re-learned all there was to know about new babies. I recognized when a cry meant “I’m hungry/wet/cold/hot” or simply “I’m a baby and I insist on being treated like a princess.” I rediscovered the joyful feeling in your heart when a 6-month-old reaches out her chubby little arms for a hug. And I understood there wasn’t too much on earth that I enjoyed as much as watching little Gracie grow.
So there we were, back again after all these months, waiting for the arrival of a second little miracle. When Emily’s arrival was imminent, we set up shop again, Gracie, her grampy and I. With Mommy and Daddy entrenched in the hospital, we were on our own. But you would think by now I’d have had the whole thing down cold. Well. You would have thought.
And things did start off just fine. At naptime we read a book, enjoyed some milk and negotiated a diaper change. Being a warm spring day in Southern California, I left Gracie in her diaper and a light shirt; I deposited her in her crib with a few of her books and gave her a hug. This was so easy. “Night-night,” Gracie called as I exited her room. “Love you …” she called. “How cute is that?” I asked the universe in general, closing her door softly.
So I was taken off guard when I peeked at the baby monitor shortly thereafter and saw my granddaughter perusing her books beside a puffy white object in her crib. Well. That certainly hadn’t been there when I left her room. I grew more puzzled as I peered at the small screen because now Gracie was putting the mystery object on her head. Hmmm … Gracie was looking at books with … oh, dear Lord … she was looking at books with her diaper on her head. Yes, the diaper was definitely missing from, well … where a diaper normally belongs. Whew. Disaster was averted with a swift trip to securely reapply the diaper to the proper location.
Finally word came from the hospital that Emily had arrived and was ready for a visit from her big sister. Since meeting a brand-new baby sister is a momentous occasion, I was on a mission to dress Gracie perfectly including combing her hair into a new big-sister “do.” I wanted this vision of Gracie loveliness to assure her parents that Gracie was in competent hands during their stay at the hospital. I mean, nobody needed to know about the unfortunate diaper-on-the-head incident, right? Right!
Scurrying out the door, I glanced down at Gracie’s previously perfect wispy blonde curls. Oh-oh. Clutching the hairbrush in her chubby little fist, she now bore a regrettable resemblance to Donald Trump. Doing my best to smooth out her fresh “comb-over” we hustled on out to the car.
Arriving at the hospital we exited the car excitedly. Gracie reached back to grab a red object from the floor of the vehicle and we were off. Rounding the corner to the elevator I glanced down at my granddaughter for a last inspection before she met her new baby sister. And OK, it might be April, but Gracie had concluded the proper head attire for this important occasion was, well … her Santa Claus hat.
So on that lovely spring afternoon Gracie arrived at the hospital to meet her new sister Emily while wearing a perky red Santa hat. And, in the end, it was just fine. Because everybody knows that baby sisters, like Christmas, don’t come everyday.
