Well, to two pet rocks anyway. Little One the Elder introduced me to them today. They're both boys, named Joe and Bob. Well, Joe was going to be Ben, but he didn't think the rock really felt like a Ben. And Bob would have been Brian, but little one has always had a soft spot for Bob the Builder.
And there would have been a Meriwhen...yes, the little one wanted to name one after me, except that both rocks were male.
"And how did you know the rocks were boys," I asked.
"I looked at their bottoms," he replied.
"OK." I couldn't bring myself to ask what he was looking for.
So that's rock-sexing 101.
Speaking of grandparenthood, I saw on social media that one of the neighborhood kids I grew up with became a grandmother. She is a few years younger than I. That means she had to have had her own child at about age 20 or therabouts, and this child then became a parent at age 20 or thereabouts. She's 40 or so and already has a grandchild.
At age 20, I was in college, still deciding what I wanted to do in life. At 40, I was still deciding what I wanted to in life, but at least had a general direction at that point.
So she now has a granddaughter--a darn cute kid too. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here as Little One the Younger, toddler, is tracing an outline of my body with Post-Its. His main squeeze--besides me, that is, as he's still in the "want to marry Mommy" stage--is a stuffed Shaun the Sheep doll.
And Little One the Elder, pre-teen, is holed up in the office playing video games. He's expressed no interest in dating, and I'm not about to encourage it. I don't think I'm ready for it. Puberty has started setting in on him, and I'm having a hard time dealing with the soon-to-be loss of my little boy as it is. He already is as tall as my nose, and I'm tall to begin with.
But no grandchildren from either son will be on the radar any time soon.
Just two grandrocks. And possibly a sheep-in-law.
