Why I Need to Learn to Knit Booties.

My Dear Darling Daughter, Katie,
has always said that she never wants children.
She doesn’t want to be a mother.
Ever.

That alone isn’t the real tragedy.
The tragedy lies in the fact that I fear
that I may never become a grandmother.
Because, really, isn’t this about me?

Did you hear me??
I may never become a grandmother!
No one will ever call me Meemaw!
It’s just tragic.
And too sad for words.

So of course, as I always do
when I'm faced with the possibilityof one door closing,
I look around for the next one to kick down.

And I met my son for lunch yesterday.

Immediately after receiving my salad I started in.

Me: “Do you think you’ll ever have kids?”


Dan: “Sure.”


Me: “Really??!! You plan on having children?”


Dan: “Well, yeah. After I get married and turn 30.”

Then I get all nonchalanty-like.
Like it’s no big deal.
Like the rest of my life doesn’t depend on this conversation.

Me: “Oh, that’s nice.”


And then I go one step too far.


Me: “So, can I name your first child?”


Dan: “Only if it’s a girl.”


Me: “Why only if it’s a girl?”


Dan: “Because I have my son’s name picked out already.”

Seriously, how sweet is that?
My son has actually given this some thought.
He has lovingly pictured this child in his mind.
And chosen a name for my grandson.
I want to pull out my scissors and take
a lock of his hair and paste it in a book
so that I'll remember this moment forever.

Me: “So, what are you going to name your son?’


Dan: “Optimus Prime.”


And you know what?
There are worse things in the world
than being called Opie.
I hear Ron Howard is doing just fine.

Holly

xxx-ooo