28 Sep My name is Bama – as in Ala – Bama
He finally said it. He called me by my name. I am over the moon. My name is Bama. As in Ala – BAMA – could that be cuter? When my kids were growing up I remember loving age three because they could walk and talk, making life simpler.
Three was fun because you could go to a movie without leaving in the middle, mold play doe without having them digest it or do a craft together without losing an eye.
But grandmothering is different somehow. Mason is now 18 months. Every milestone is a celebration for me. Every gurgle and every utterance is a gift that only a grandmother knows needs to be cherished because time does move quickly. We knew it then theoretically but know we know it practically. We are reminded that time has slipped by when we try to pick up something off the floor and five areas of the body call out in protest.
When you are the parent you are making your way in the world, you are also growing a learning in leaps and bounds alongside your child. You have plenty to contend with making it difficult to stop and smell the roses. Grandparents know better.
If you are lucky enough to be a Bama, you most likely realize you will never stop learning, have much less to prove and understand that this time is not permanent, everything else can wait while you soak it all in.
Grandparents have the benefit of knowing these are the good old days.
So when Mason uttered Bama while pointing (another favorite, could that index finger be cuter?) to me and his PaPoo in a picture, I could not have been happier. He knew me. It was like the angels were singing. I finally have proof that he knows who I am. He, of course, has shown me in countless ways that he knows me, but he has said Papoo (grandfather) for some time.
Arguably his first word was Papoo. Not that I am jealous. Well, ok, I am jealous.
But thankfully the wait is over!!!