I’m Spending My Granddog’s Inheritance

By Lisa

I’m babysitting my granddog.

Yes, you read that right.

I don’t have any grandchildren, but I have a granddog, a little boy aged five, and he looks just like me.

Our noses are identical. They’re large and they leak.

My granddog’s name is Pip, and you may know he’s Daughter Francesca’s furry son, but he gets all his best traits from me.

Namely, begging at the table.

You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten dinner with me, because the whole time, my eyes are on your plate.

This could be the reason for my lack of dating success.

God knows why, but men don’t get turned on when I lean over and whisper in their ear, “Aren’t you going to eat that?”

The other trait I share with my granddog is that we do the same tricks, in that we both Sit and Lie Down.

But we don’t Fetch unless there’s a sale.

And we don’t Roll Over for anybody.

I know that people love having grandchildren, and some of my friends say that having grandchildren is even better than having children. Plus, one out of every three bumper stickers is about grandchildren.

Or honor students.

Or honor-student grandchildren.

And the other day, one of my readers happened to say to me, “When is Francesca going to give you grandchildren?”

I was at a loss for words.

At least temporarily.

I never thought of grandchildren as something that Francesca would give me, and all of a sudden, I realized what I was missing.

I was missing an opportunity to guilt-trip my daughter about something, which shows what kind of mother I am.

Only a bad mother misses a chance to guilt-trip her kid.

But I have to say, although I’m sure I’ll love being a grandparent, I’m not there yet.

Not that I’m not a huge fan of babies, because I am.

I coo at every baby I see in the supermarket in the shopping cart, on the sidewalk in strollers, and even on the bike trail, where they get towed along in little carriers.

Babies are always on the move.

But I’m not ready for grandchildren yet, and not for the conventional reason. I don’t mind getting older, and I want my future grandchild to call me grandma.

Either that, or Mrs. Bradley Cooper.

But at the same time, I’m divorced twice, and I know that it’s important to choose the right mate the first time.

And the second time, too.

I’m looking forward to choosing the right mate the third time, because after three strikes, I get three more at bats, isn’t that how it works?

So I’m not guilt-tripping Daughter Francesca over not giving me grandchildren because even after my divorces, I still believe in marriage. And what I’ve learned from Thing One and Thing Two, or at least being married and divorced from them, is that I should have taken my time.

I should’ve taken my time when I was dating, and I should’ve taken my time when I said I do.

In those days, I never did anything on my time. I did it on everybody else’s time, and I don’t think I’m the only woman who made that mistake in her younger days.

Please tell me you know what I’m talking about.

But the wisdom of being a grandparent’s age, even if you’re not a grandparent yet, is that you don’t have to do anything on command.

Nobody can rush you into anything, whether it’s getting engaged or getting married, or whether you want to see those shoes in your size.

I believe that older people know this, and you can test my theory yourself, simply by getting in line behind a senior citizen.

They’re in no hurry.

They’re not going to rush.

They’re taking their time.

And you know what?

They’re not dull or slow.

On the contrary, they’re smarter than all of us.

So I’m taking a lesson from older people everywhere, as well as from dogs, and I sense that Francesca is, too.

So I’m not rushing her.

I’m not even rushing my granddog.

For now, we’ll all Stay.