Well, dear readers, you’ll recall that in last weeks post I talked about my granddaughter Maisy, and how she just loved reading Mustard and Boloney’s latest book entitled: ‘Butt Seriously’. She loved it so much! In fact she’s ordered several more copies for friends at her day school. But, there was one thing that displeased her in that post. It was the line in which I referred to both of us needing to change our diapers before gazing at more cartoons. I wrote it as a sort of tongue-in-cheek bit of fun (me old; she young) but, well, she was not amused.
She called me up and mentioned that as she is now three she hasn’t in fact worn diapers in a very long time. I explained my reasoning and that our fans loved the post. Silence crept through the phone. “I appreciate your humour Grandpa and although witty – I too smiled for a moment – it was not entirely accurate as to my current bathroom needs.” (are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?) “Oh. ah, what can I do to make it up to you,” I asked. Silence again then, “I’ll think on it, but keep an eye on your inbox”. Then the phone went dead. I immediately went out and meditated trying to remain calm. (Breathe Mustard. Breathe.)
Upon returning home later – and feeling a touch more relaxed – I found this in my in box with a note saying, “Here is a picture of myself, my older brother (Isaac) and my younger sister (Gemma). As you can clearly see Gemma is the one needing diapers. If you could post this I would appreciate it”
Whew! Post a picture? I can do that. (I was worried she’d cancel her order for our books and maybe demand a kidney.)
I waited a day or so before calling her up to say that I had received the family picture, and it will definitely appear in my next post. Silence. Uh-oh, My heart skipped a beat. “Did you not open the other attachment to my message?” “Ah, no”, I sheepishly replied. More silence then “Just kidding gramps! Ha!! I had you going there, huh?” (She’ll never know just how close I came to using my home defibrillator.)
“I love you Maisy. You’re my special wee girl.” Silence again. (Thank heavens I didn’t power down the unit.) “Ah, gramps, are you talking about me having to wee wee again.”
“Heavens no,” I replied,
“it’s a Scottish term (as I am Scottish) that my mom used to use in place of the word ‘little’. You’re my special little granddaughter.”
“I’ll call you back, but first I need to check something in the dictionary.” With that, she hung up.
I instantly called my analyst to see is he could fit me in right away. (I should probably put him on speed dial.) I booked several hours for the following day.