On Becoming a Grandparent--Part 2

As mentioned in an earlier post, I recently learned that come December I'm going to be a grandfather for the first time. After the initial shock wore off I remember thinking, “Whoa, me a grandfather? Somebody pull the cord and stop the bus!”

I mean, just how did I get to this point in my life so quickly? It was only yesterday that I was filled with excitement and anticipation of the birth of my first child. Now, here I am filled with excitement and anticipation of the birth of my first grandchild. What happened? Did I, like Rip Van Winkle, take a nap only to wake years later to a whole new world, or, did I get caught in some kind of time warp, where I was thrust into the future? It was a little unsettling to say the least.

Then a different, even more frightening thought crossed my mind (and we all know how short of a crossing that is), what if my first grandchild is a girl?! That thought almost put me into cardiac arrest.

You see, I grew up in a family of mischievous, rowdy boys, four to be exact--even our dog was male (poor mom was an island of estrogen in a sea of testosterone)--and I have three sons, no daughters. I know boys. I know how they operate, their thought processes, how their prone to act and react to what life throws at them. A granddaughter will, well, intimidate me.

Can I, a man who knows nothing about raising girls, adapt to having a granddaughter? Will I play too rough with her, tease her too harshly, joke too crudely, be too enthusiastic about sports, shaping her into a tomboy?

Or maybe I’ll act toward her much too far in the opposite direction, pampering her too much, treating her like a prim-a-Donna, cushioning her from the harsh realities of the world; thus giving her unrealistic expectations of life.

And then of course there’s the future issue of dating. But this one I have figured out. Let’s just say I’ve already informed eldest son and daughter-in-law that when granddaughter is dating age I’ll be moving next door to them and will be camped on their front porch steps, waiting for granddaughter’s dates to pick her up and bring her home.

Oh I pity the poor boy that’ll have to go through grandpa to get to granddaughter. I’ve even borrowed a great couple of lines from comic Bill Engvall to say to the unfortunate young man as he approaches my “roost.” I’ll look him square in the eyes and tell him, “that little girl in there that you’re about to take out, she’s my granddaughter, my pride and joy. I will stop at nothing to protect her, so if you have any intentions of hugging her or kissing her I have no problem going back to prison. Now, where are you taking my granddaughter and what time will you have her home?” Did I mention that while carrying on this conversation with the young man I’ll just happen to be cleaning my shotgun?

Heck, now that I think about it, I’ll sneakily attach a GPS system to the boy’s car so I can monitor his every move from my computer. If his car deviates from where it's supposed to be, they’ll be getting a call.

So, as you can see, though I don’t as yet have all the answers to my many questions about raising granddaughters, I do have the important ones answered, the ones that deal with issues of the opposite sex, and that’s good enough for now. After all, I have six months to figure out the rest of it and that’s plenty of time, right?