This is my granddaughter Zoey, at four days old. Her forearm is about as long as my thumb, and about as big around. Surely she'll put on some weight, right?
In the background is my oldest granddaughter Elizabeth, taking a break from eating eating her flavored lip balm. I'll have to find a picture of her with her head included to share.
My other granddaughter Leibe (the German word for love, but they're pronouncing it Libby) hasn't made her arrival yet, thank goodness.
There is a distinct shortage of boys in our family, and nobody feels it more than my step-son and my sons-in-law. You'd think we are suffocating them with estrogen. Poor fellas. Boo-hoo.
So, I'm thirty-something (almost forty-something), and I'm not one of those I'm-too-young-to-be-called-Grandma chickies. OK, I'm too young to be a grandma, but there's no use crying over fertilized eggs.
All of my grandmothers (including the greats) were called Grandma. *BORING* My grand babies are gonna call me Granny. That just makes me giggle. This granny drives a truck, works 40+ hours a week, wears big stomping lace-up platform shoes, listens to classic hard rock, and loves her girls more than they'll ever know.
(Original photo by JPendleton, some rights reserved.)