Tag Archives: grandchildren

Just being Grandma…

Sometimes, just being Grandma is great.

Just chatting...

Just chatting…

Wednesday, for instance, is just such a time. 3-year-old Arthur is staying with me for an hour or two while little sister is at nursery and mummy is in a meeting.
On arrival, Arthur informs me that,
“Grandma! I have growed…look!” (I only saw him yesterday.) I act suitably impressed. We establish that he is well on the way to being as tall as daddy.
Once mummy has left, we watch several episodes of Ninja Turtles,
“You have to watch this bit, Grandma, there is an awesome jump in a minute…”
and I have been made to sit on the floor and wheel a bus around while he makes two tiny ninja turtles jump onto it,
“Not like that, Grandma…like this.”
I get it right in the end. Cousin Elliott has given him the turtles apparently. We have had a variety of interesting conversations about turtles and super powers when Arthur decides he needs to visit the loo. This will not be a short trip.
Sitting there, on the kiddy’s toilet seat, the latter being decorated with brightly coloured fish, Arthur reaches out for my hand. I realise this is to prevent me from leaving. This is obviously to be a social occasion.
We spend a short time contemplating life, while he sits there. I think we have covered the origins of the universe and other trivia when he tells me,
“Grandma, I have a Cars seat at home,”
“Do you?”
“Yes, if I don’t have it, I have to hold on, so I won’t fall in,” there is a pause while he considers this fact, “Elliott doesn’t have a Cars seat but he doesn’t hold on either.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“No, and he doesn’t fall in, Elliott is very brave,” he decides gravely.
I smile, “I am sure you can be very brave too,” I tell him.
There is a long pause during which, Arthur sighs and shrugs his shoulders.
“I just don’t know how to be brave yet, Grandma,” he tells me.
“I am sure you will get brave soon,” I insist.
He nods,
“Yes, when I am bigger I will, Grandma, but I just don’t know how to be brave at the moment,”
(It is lucky he is using the kiddy’s toilet seat because his hands are spread wide now as he speaks.)

There is another pause as he eyes the bottle of green soap on the wash basin…
“Grandma, did they put peas in that soap?”
This makes me chuckle,
“I don’t think so, I think they put limes in it, limes are green,” I remark. There are limes on the label after all.
He is not convinced.
“No, Grandma. I think they put peas in it because peas are green,”

About 15 mins later, we make it out of the loo…

Yes, sometimes, just being Grandma is great.


Filed under Living Between the Lines

Flying irons

It started as one of those days.

Two of my little grandchildren stayed at our house last night. I would not have been aware of their presence this morning, had I not opened my eyes just as they were leaving our room having, I guessed, been standing by the bed, staring at my sleeping figure for some time.
I should have continued to sleep or to pretend sleep for a few minutes more, at least. However, being Grandma, I did what any grandma might do, I said,
“Hello, you two,”
Now, every grandchild knows that if Grandma says hello, that means she is awake, ready to play/read/cuddle whatever you like.
My fate was sealed. I had an early start.
Some little time later, we were downstairs eating cereal poured from those little individual packets, because it tastes so much better than cereal out of the big boxes, when you are small. Luckily, Grandma always seems to have some in the cupboard.
Separating dogs from children, at feeding time, is always a bit difficult and Flossie managed to lie undetected beneath the table for some time, waiting for any dropped morsels of food. Charlie, a little hesitant, circled the perimeter, sniffing the floor.
‘Ignore them,” I instructed.
“Good boy Charlie,” said William. Charlie wagged his tail and moved closer sensing the promise of something tasty.
I decided to send Charlie and Flossie into the garden.
A little while later, boys having eaten their breakfast, I let Flossie in. There was no sign of Charlie but I decided he could stay out for a while.
The boys were whisked away, at 8.30am, by their nanny while their mum, now very pregnant, went off to work.


William and Elliott ready for pre-school and school

It was then that I noticed Charlie was missing. I could hear him barking but he didn’t come when I whistled.
A quick trip down the garden revealed him to be on the other side of the wire fence. He’d got through the hedge and then through another, now entirely invisible, gap. He could not get back.
So, off I went to call on my neighbour to see if I might go into his garden and rescue Charlie. He, of course, was very obliging and led me through the garden, even though it had started to rain and he was in his shirt sleeves. I did have the presence of mind to say I wouldn’t go through the house, as I was already a bit wed and muddy, (very thoughtful of me).
Making my way down the garden, a very long garden, I spotted Charlie still trying to get through the hedge and home. Seeing me, he went into a frenzy of delight and came galloping up the garden. By now it was beginning to rain quite heavily so I thanked my kind neighbour and hurried back home.
Stepping over the lines of neatly lined up cars that 2-year-old Elliott had left in one room, and clearing away the breakfast things, I decided to do a spot of ironing while I was in the kitchen.
This was probably a mistake as Charlie was sniffing round. However, heedless of danger, I grabbed the iron from the utility room, dislodging a chew bone from the work surface, as I did so. The chew bone rolled down the step and onto the kitchen floor. Naturally, Charlie thought his luck was in and made to get it.
“No, leave, Charlie,” I cried and iron in hand, turned to pick up the treat. Confused, Charlie backtracked, becoming entangled with my feet. In an inelegant, slow motion, cartoon fall, I tripped over Charlie, lunging forward, down the step, realising I had no option but to fall to the ground, since both my feet were now in mid-air. With the iron still in my hand, I was conscious that I must not smash it on the stone tiles.
Somehow, in that split second, as I flew through the air, wielding the iron on high, I managed to avoid landing on the dog and if not gently, then safely brought the iron to the floor, where I crumpled beside it.
I briefly wondered whether this would result in any injury to my person but thankfully, it did not. My pride was bruised it was true, but little else. I had even managed to grab the dog treat on my way through.

All this before 9am.

What will the rest of the day bring?


Filed under Living Between the Lines


Baby Arthur Bear Geoffrey John, has arrived.
Two and a half weeks early, weighing 6lbs 6oz with a shock of black hair, he arrived at 12.08pm on 4th August 2013.

This little corker is our fourth grandson and the first child for Zoe and Rhys who, though exhausted, are over the moon.

So, without further ado, here is little Arthur and his proud Grandma and Granddad. 🙂


Arthur Bear Geoffrey John

Proud Grandma and little Arthur

Proud Grandma and scrumptious Arthur

Arthur Bear Geoffrey John

Proud Granddad and gorgeous Arthur


Filed under Living Between the Lines