The brutal truth

The girls and I were talking about grandmas tonight over mac-n-cheese. We had a friend over, so while he and Chris grilled some steaks on the porch, I boiled up the good stuff for our less discerning children.

We began talking about the wine glass I was sipping out of, something I cherish very much as it came from my Grandma Niccoli. (The glass, not the wine!) They were confused to hear that I had a Grandma Niccoli, someone other than their Grandma Niccoli, and this led into a discussion about generations, marriage, the passing on of names, and, finally, nicknames. The girls sometimes refer to their grandmothers as "The Grandma who sews" and "The Grandma who doesn't sew," and as we discussed this I jokingly asked them what their kids would call me.

Not missing a beat, not missing a beat! Beth responded, "Grandma Lazy Bum."