Jekyll, Hyde and Bubby

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Bubby's mom, Megan, was an incredibly moody and sensitive child, the most senstive of my three daughters.

Based on our latest Skype visit with Bubby, seems that Megan's finally getting paid back for all she put her parents through.

From the heights of happiness to the depths of despair, I think Bubby covered it all in our 20-minute visit. All the while. Megan just shook her head, saying, "Yep, he's two."

He's not just two, Megan. He's just like you!

Today's question:

What question would you like to see asked of Grandma's Briefs readers?

Egghead grandma

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I recently ran across a pretty nifty gift for Bubby: Hatch-N-Grow dinosaur eggs!

How awesome is that!?

I ordered the eggs, they arrived, and I was quite excited to try one out before popping a few in the mail to Bubby, just to ensure it wasn't totally lame. (Sea monkeys anyone?)

Here's how it works:

I placed the egg -- the size of a regular chicken egg -- into a glass of water as directed. Per the package, I should have a little dinosaur head cracking through within 24-48 hours.

And I did!

Very cool! Get a load of that cute little dino grin!

Despite the "Age 3+" notation on the package, I just knew Bubby would love watching the dinosaur hatch. So I planned to send him not just one, but two packages, just in case he wanted twice the fun ... or just in case Megan wanted to use one to amaze the 4-year-olds in her classroom.

Megan called the other night to confirm the time of our weekly Skype session, and I told her about the very cool dinosaur egg, my practice hatch, and my plans to send Bubby a couple in the mail.

"He won't like that," she said.

"What? It's a hatching dinosaur! It's so cool! He'll love it!"

"No. He won't. He'll be scared of it," she assured me.

"Um, I don't think so," I responded. "I'm going to show him during our Skype session and you'll see. He's going to love it!"

We proceeded to Skype and I could barely contain my excitement as I grabbed the glass of water containing the magnificent emerging dinosaur and held it toward the webcam so Bubby could see.

He grew silent. And slowly leaned back into Megan for protection.

"It's a dinosaur!" I smiled and explained, trying to turn him on to the delights of the mini dino.

"Scary," he said so quietly that Megan had to translate.

"He's two, Mom. That's scary to him," Megan said.

I couldn't believe it. Yeah, the recommended age is three and up, but I figured that was because some little kids might eat pieces of the cracked shell. Or drink the water. Or bite off chunks of the dinosaur once it was fully grown. Not Bubby, though. He wouldn't do that. He'd be fascinated by the emerging prehistoric figure, I was sure.

But he wasn't. And isn't. And won't be for quite some time, apparently.

So I'll be packing away the boxes of eggs I purchased for Bubby. Unlike real eggs, they won't go bad. And I'm sure that by the time he's three, he'll be more than ready to plop an egg in a glass and keep a constant eye on the dinosaur's progress as it cracks through the egg.

In the meantime, I'll keep a constant eye on my dinosaur, eagerly awaiting the day it breaks completely free from the egg.

Maybe once it does I'll then show the fully hatched dino to Bubby during a Skype session. Maybe it's the egg that scares him! I'll just have the adorable mini dinosaur ready and waiting to surprise him during a Skype visit.

Of course I'll have to ask Megan first. As hard as it is to admit, Megan obviously knows better than Gramma.

At least when it comes to Bubby.

Sheesh ... this grandma gig isn't as cut and dry as one might think!

Today's question:

 Have you ever had a gift-giving experience fall stupendously flat?

Not in Grandma's job description

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Bubby's in trouble.Soon after I published the post about Bubby seeming mature beyond his two years by taking responsibility for his actions, he had a horrid day marked by, as Megan put it, "making bad choices."

In other words, he acted like a two-year-old.

Seems that Bubby pushed down a little girl he didn't want invading his personal space. He didn't balk over the subsequent time-out, he didn't apologize to his victim, and, more distressing to Megan, he didn't express any remorse over his dastardly deed.

Megan had a serious conversation with Bubby to let him know such behavior is not acceptable. "We use our hands to love, not to hurt" was the theme of her lecture. She also assigned Preston to follow through with a similar lecture when he got home from work that evening.

And she called me to ask that Gramma and PawDad mention it during our weekly Skyping session, that we stress the importance of being kind to others, making good decisions, doing the right thing. No problem, I told her. By all means, we can reinforce good behavior.

Facing the music.Then we proceeded to Skype. Jim and I started off the video conversation with questions about the incident and admonitions about being nice to others.

And it sucked. For all of us.

Bubby faced the music -- and the webcam -- with reservation and solemnity not typical of our Skype time. The happy little grin that usually fills our computer screen during our video visits was replaced with a sad, seemingly confused little boy who didn't understand how Gramma and PawDad could be so serious with him.

It was a painful moment for Bubby. It was a painful moment for me and Jim. I think it was a tad uncomfortable, possibly even painful, for Megan.

Again, it sucked. For all of us.

So we all -- most importantly, Bubby -- quickly agreed Bubby would make better choices going forward. Apology accepted. We moved on to happy talk. We read a story book. Bubby's grin appeared. It also appeared Bubby had learned his lesson.

Apology accepted!I know I certainly learned mine: Going forward, lecturing will be left to Megan and Preston. Skype time with Bubby is too precious to have it tainted by stern talk in somber voices and a sad little boy staring back at me on the computer screen.

I'm willing to have Megan's back on the reinforcing of proper behavior and such. Believe me, I understand the necessity for such. But if she wants me to do it with a heavy hand, she'll need to move closer so I can do it in person because I hereby declare I will no longer do teleconference lecturing.

Teleconference lecturing is not in the job description for long-distance grandmas. At least not in this long-distance grandma's job description.

Today's question:

When has the "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you" adage come into play for you?

Worth the time?

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  PLUS    EQUALS 

We're all busy, we're all trying to fit 26 hours of activity into the allotted 24. And in that flurry of fun are lots of things we do -- or at least that I do -- that I really don't think are worth the time it takes to do them.

Making coffee? So worth the time. Making the bed? Not so much. (Luckily bed-making is Jim's job, not mine.)

The ultimate example of something that I consider not worth the time it takes to do it is the Thanksgiving meal. I enjoy cooking. I like making yummy stuff for my family, immediate and extended. But gee whiz! You spend weeks planning and shopping for it, days cooking for it, hours getting it on the table and POOF! It's over in less than one hour, sometimes even quicker than that.

So not worth the time.

Fortunately life is not a total waste of time; we're not forking out minutes without racking up emotional payoff. Indeed, there are a few things in life that, despite the hassle, despite the time investment, prove to be totally worth it.

Tuesdays at 6 p.m. is our standing Skype time with Bubby. I had purchased four picture books to be shipped from Amazon to him and four of the same books shipped to myself so I could read a book to him while Skyping. This past Tuesday was the designated day for Bubby to open the boxes and choose the first for us to share.

But Tuesday evening was crazy busy. Jim had lots to share when he got home from work, then we had even more to discuss after his telephone conversation with his out-of-state brother. Then my boss from the literacy center called with a request that caused a bit of consternation (and guilt) on my part and when I hung up with her, it was after 6 p.m.

Then the phone rang again.

It was Megan. "Umm, it's after 6 p.m. and you're not online? What's up? I'm sitting here explaining to my crying son exactly what it means to be stood up."

"Cuss!" I replied, explaining why I was running behind.

She was just kidding about Bubby crying and about making him think Grandma's a screw-up, of course, and she said we could just do it another time. For a split second I was tempted to take her up on the offer. Skyping does take up some time, which I was short on, and it is a bit of a hassle because I have to unplug my laptop from the big monitor, keyboard and mouse and move to the dining room with it so Jim can participate, as it's too crowded at my desk for the two of us.

But I had said we would Skype, that we would open the books, that we would share a story. And this grandma doesn't go back on what she says she'll do.

So we Skyped. Jim and I watched as Bubby eagerly -- but patiently -- awaited the opening of the Amazon box with the surprise goodies inside. His eyes grew bigger and bigger ... then his face lit up, his smile became a grin and he exclaimed, "Books!" All the while goosebumps covered my arms and my heart grew not just three but ten sizes that day.

I showed Bubby that Grandma has the very same books, holding each up to the webcam. He immediately selected "I Love Trucks" and off we went, sharing a story across the 819 miles between us. I read, he turned pages, Megan and Jim listened. We all laughed about cows and bunnies and trucks.

Bubby loved it. I loved it. Megan and Jim loved it, too.

Was it worth it? You bet your bippy, it was! For that, my friends, is one of the very few things in life that was, is and always will be so worth the time that it takes.

(Disclaimer: Astute regular visitors may think these Skype photos are from a previous session and you are correct! I was too busy reading -- and grinning -- to take photos of the session of which I write.)

Today's question:

What is one thing you think is definitely worth the time it takes?

We now pronounce you ...

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There's been a fair amount of conversation in our family regarding what the grandkids will call grandma. I kind of liked G-Ma; Megan wanted Grammy; Bubby has chosen "Granna" ... which also comes out, at times, as "Gramma." That's perfectly fine with me; it's much preferred over the original "Graya."

Not so much has been said about what Bubby and future grandchildren are to call Jim. His only request was that he NOT be called "Pop," as that was the moniker of his not-so-nice stepdad.

So Jim and I have been toodling along, figuring we're just plain ol' vanilla "Grandma and Grandpa."

Bubby seems  to have a different idea for Jim.

When he first started forming words and identifying things around him, Bubby mixed up his syllables for lots of things. So we didn't pay all that much attention to what he'd been calling Jim.

But during our Skyping session Tuesday night (which provided all the photos for this post), Bubby made it very clear -- after being asked "Who's that?" several times in reference to his grandpa -- that his pronunciation wasn't a mistake, that Jim is now and forever will be ...

... "PawDad!"

Yep, Bubby called him PawDad many times, all with a huge smile on his face.

And with that, "PawDad" Jim will be.

PawDad and Granna. Are there any better grandparenting names than that?

I don't think so. At least not for us!

    

Today's question:

What makes you laugh out loud?

Photo replay

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Bubby requested a special Skype session with Grandma and Grandpa this past week, specifically to show us the caterpillar he made at day camp.

June 10, 2010

Today's question:

What is the best part of your Sunday routine?

My answer: When Jim and I sit at opposite ends of the dining room table and peruse the newspaper while sipping our morning coffee, swapping sections as we complete them.

Skyping 'bout school

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(Not from Skype, but the happy face that filled the screen just the same.)

Bubby is attending "school" this week, participating in the summer camp for two-year-olds at church while Megan works the VBS. He loves the class, the interaction with the "teacher" and other kids, and he had lots to share with us about his day during our Skype session Tuesday night.

First he held up to the web camera his newly planted flower: a Play-Doh container packed with dirt, and somewhere within, a seed he's hoping will bloom. Relying on Megan to translate, Bubby told Grandma and Grandpa all about the "dirt," the "flower" and "water." We kinda sorta understood those words ... as long as Megan repeated them for us.

Next up was a picture of which Bubby was oh-so proud: A popsicle-stick frame embellished with glued-on buttons perfectly complementing a plant picture cut from a magazine. High art for a toddler!

Seems that "plants" was the theme of the day, and Bubby learned lots about plants in his few hours of "school." And he was more focused than usual during the Skype session, as he wanted to be sure Grandma and Grandpa heard -- and saw -- all he had gleaned from the day.

It was pretty exciting on our end to get our first glimpse of what it will be like when Bubby calls us up after a day of real school, to animatedly share via Skype the news -- and art projects -- of the day.

Only thing is, Bubby and Grandpa will have to come up with some other male-bonding motion by that time, as doing "knucks" at the end of the conversation already rocks and knocks the computer monitor on Bubby's end. I can only imagine what it will do when it's a five-year-old -- or older -- punching fists on the screen with Grandpa!

Today's question:

When recalling doing art projects as a child, what's one thing that stands out in your mind?

My answer: The smell of the paste. I remember the tubs of paste with a stick applicator attached to the lid and trying to spread the goo where it needed to go. Of course it never applied smoothly, thanks to the rigid stick, so cutouts glued to paper always had a lump here and there. I loved squishing down those bumps of glue, releasing the sweet scent of a masterpiece in the making.

Skype time

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Bubby left yesterday -- with Daddy alone, no Mommy! -- to visit his grandma and grandpa on the plains. That, of course, required a quick Skype session with this grandma and grandpa before he left.

Here's how it went:

Hey, Bub! Yay, It's Grandma and Grandpa! Time to show them how goofy I can be. And let them know I've got ALL my teeth now! Look how quickly I can shake my head ... back and forth over and over! That's right ... I'm a silly one! But I can smile sweet, too. And listen really well. And look: I have two feet now! I can meow back at Isabel when you hold her to the camera. Meows, of course, must be followed by fish sounds. Did I mention all my teeth? This is the bedtime song I sing with Mommy: Love, love, love, love. I like to sway back and forth when we sing it. It just makes me want to love, love Mommy! Time to go! Here's a kiss! Kissing the monitor is so silly!

Saying buh-bye is always a little sad.

Today's question (from my trivia calendar, but fitting):

In the world of high-tech messages, you no doubt know what spam is; but how about spim and spit?

The answer: I'll tell you after a few comments; just curious if anyone knows. I didn't.

Skyping with Bubby

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Eventually Skype will be an incredible tool for keeping up with Bubby's daily doings. I imagine him ringing me up to share the latest on school happenings, requesting a little homework help (yeah, not likely since Megan's a teacher ... and far smarter than I am) and giving me a play-by-play of his latest game/match/round of golf.

Sooner than that will be Skype time involving the sharing of picture books, with each of us having our own copy of the same book so we can flip through the pages together; recitations of ABCs, numbers and maybe a song here and there; and tall tales he'll tell in a mostly gibberish language I won't understand but will happily nod my head in rapt attention to, eating up every syllable.

Our current Skype sessions, though, consist primarily of Megan trying to wrangle Bubby into a semi-still position in front of the camera for at least 15 seconds at a time so Jim and I can get a good look at him ... and he can realize Grandma and Grandpa are right there on the computer monitor, oohing and aahing and shouting "Bubby, Bubby! Hey, Bubby! How are you! Look at Grandma! We love you! Where's your eye? Show us your eye! What about your belly button? Where's ... Bubby's ... BELLY BUTTON? Show us your belly button!"

It's pretty limited verbal interaction. Bubby offers a grunt or giggle here and there to pacify his psycho grandparents, but he's mostly interested in the office supplies on the desk or Roxy (his dog), who wiggles and wags around the chair, begging to be part of the excitement.

But the visual interaction during our Skype sessions, like the one last night, provides me and Jim with exactly what we need: glimpses of our handsome, goofy, rapidly growing, desert-dwelling Bubby:

And that right there is what makes Skype the very best invention since multi-grain Cheerios!