ODE TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER

      They say time is fleeting, passing in the wink of an eye. One moment you are playing hop scotch with your grade two friends. The next moment you are going home from the hospital, your brand new baby in tow, gazing at this amazing little creature who has been given into your care. Another twinkling of an eye - your little boy is all grown up and there, before you, is his own bundle of joy. A squirming little baby with spiky yellow hair and a big toothless grin – your grandchild – and you fall instantly, head over heels, in love with her.

      Each time you see her she becomes more endearing, more engaging, more lovable, funnier, smarter and just all around more wonderful. The memories of times spent with my granddaughter have lately come flooding back to me.

      She's seven. We are playing miniature golf when I discover she has a sense of humour. In fact, she is quite comical and makes me laugh. At seven? Walking beside her, she looks up at me, the innocence of childhood on her face, and she slips her hand into mine. We walk along like that for blocks. My heart melts.

She sits on my lawn gathering up some snails, painstakingly naming each of them. She decides who is the aunt, the mother, the brother, where they are going and where they have been. The next day she searches for her family of snails only to discover they have moved on.

      She is nine. She has fallen asleep on the floor while we are watching a kids movie she has chosen. Unable to awaken her with gentle nudges, I try to lift her dead weight from the floor, nudging some more, still trying not to startle her but she is dead to the world. Eventually I need to shake the goodness out of her to get a response and she stirs. With her eyes still closed, we walk to her bedroom where I watch her fall back asleep, comfy in bed, her face a picture of contentment.

      Ordering drinks to go at Starbucks; a sticky, cold concoction covered in whipped cream for her and a frothy cappuccino for me. She wants to carry the drinks to the car. In order to open the door, she places the drinks on the roof before either one of us remembers the sun roof is open. We watch in horror as the frothy, sticky cold concoction, and the hot cappuccino, splatter all over the inside of the car. Her face registers first shock when she realizes what's happened until she glances at me and sees I can barely hold back the laughter. Together, through fits of giggles, we clean up the sticky mess that is oozing into each little crevice of the leather upholstery

      We spend glorious afternoons at The Children's Discovery Museum, a wonderful hands-on, interactive museum that teaches children through play. We play spy. I am the leader and she the spy who has to go from phone to phone and listen to my instructions. At the first phone she is to go to the super market area and purchase a box of corn flakes. At the next phone she is to dress up in a medieval costume, but switch the hats. We do this for hours, me barking orders and she obeying; she takes it very seriously. At one point in our play, she looks up at me and says, “Grandma, you're so much fun.” Again, that melting heart.

      One day I see the little tomboy who refuses to wear anything other than sport team jerseys and jeans suddenly choose a new dress to wear for her first day of school.

      Two summers ago she visited with us for most of her high school vacation and was put to work around the house to earn her pocket money. She washed windows, mowed the lawn, dusted and polished furniture, made her bed each day and painted a shed. In the evenings we played cards or a board game and laughed ourselves silly. While riding our bikes together, just her and me, we talked. Long conversations about life, love, drugs, sex, dating, there were no off-limit subjects. What a wonderful gift to have grown into that kind of relationship with her. “Grandma, I really like talking to you. I don't know why but I feel like I can say anything to you.”

      She's 17, in grade 12 and about to embark on one of the most exciting times of her life. This November she has asked me to accompany her to an Open House at a university she would like to attend next year. And, she wants me to come along and share in part of this with her. Just us two. A girl's week-end away, grandmother and granddaughter. Am I pleased? You bet!