Doting [Gr]Anny

Now this, bloggy friends, is Granddaughter sleeping peacefully under the afghan and woobie so very kindly made for her by Dianne of "A Month of Sundays". Sorry that Granddaughter doesn't look particularly grateful at that moment, but I'm sure she will be once she takes more interest in the world, and we certainly are. Thank you so much, Dianne! And now everyone knows what a woobie is: a security blanket, I suppose we'd call it. It has lots of interesting ribbons round it. The afghan we'd call a shawl, or at least I would. (Like some commenters, I think of an afghan as a sheepskin coat, apparently not long separated from the sheep and not greatly altered from its original state, as worn by hippy types in my youth.)

Today I took Grandson to the Botanic Gardens. He's been there often but mainly, in the past, he's been in the pushchair. He had a lovely time rambling around, as did I. It's so wonderful being a retired granny. When I was a young mum I always had an eye on the clock and needed to rush off to collect someone from school, take someone to a ballet or piano lesson or just go home to clean the house or make a meal. Now, I devote myself to him. He enjoyed walking on the chipped bark...

 ... but then discovered a pile of dead leaves, which provided a lot of fun. I don't suppose he'd ever kicked his way through dead leaves before, because last autumn he wasn't really walking. It's such pure joy to watch him discovering the world and such a luxury to have the time to allow him to do so.

It was chilly, though, as you can see from the jacket, hat and little pink nose.

Then we went home. His speech is coming on fast. He likes to narrate a car journey ("Bus! Car!"), his latest topic being traffic lights, which combine his favourite  interests - vehicles and lights (or dights). We approach a red light and he remarks, "[S]top!" It changes to green: "Go dight!"

And at last - AT LAST!!! - he has given me a name. Mr Life has been Gaga for months. The other granny, Nanny, has been Nan for months also. Daughter 2, whom he sees once a month, he calls by a name which resembles her own. Son, whom he sees even less, gets the first syllable of his name. Goodness me, he even called Niece by her name last weekend and he hadn't seen her since Christmas. But me? - just that anonymous old lady who turns up at his house a lot.

As from today, however, let me present myself: 'Anny. [Bows]