She Was As Beautiful As A Butterfly...

There is a song called "Pretty Polly Perkins of Paddington Green", first published in 1864. Like many ditties, the lyrics were not particularly cheerful, but the tune was boppy and uplifting. My darling Dad repurposed the chorus to "pretty little Katie Hosking of 2 Nindethana Street" when I was a very young child. I honestly believed Dad had created the song just for me. When I hear his version in my head, I remember him with longing and love.

Now I have my beautiful grandbaby, Imogen, to alter the words once more, in order to pass on a new rendition of Polly Perkin's chorus. We visited Callum and Bron and Immy yesterday for a wonderful few hours with them and to soak up our darling grandaughter's presence for another few weeks until we can see her again.

Every time we visit Imogen, we just immerse ourselves in her continuing flowering as her own little person. At two months of age, she is smiling and engaging in conversations with others. Her eye contact is fixed on those in her orbit, including Michael and me. We found ourselves in love with her all over again.

She is becoming heavy. She is developing red highlights in her hair, courtesy of both her parents. Her hospital woolly hat is now too small. She fits well into her 000 clothes. She is fine-featured, rather than a boofhead. She still has lots of hair. She is easily identified as a girl. And no, I am not biased.

Callum and Bron are revelling in her development. That is a pretty dry summation, but with autism in the family, they can't help but watch her every milestone. As do I. So far, I can tell them and the universe that there are no niggling fears, no signs, no suspicion of anything except our baby girl delighting all her extended family. And Imogen will, forever, hold the title of First Grandbaby.

We are hoping to see our Next Generation family at the beginning of March. I have become totally insufferable as Imogen's Nanny Kate. I have been reduced to begging Bronwyn for a steady stream of photos so I don't succumb to Imogen Deprivation.

And the photographs tell stories. Although no blood relations, Michael (Grandpa) and Miss Imogen have fallen, truly, deeply and madly, in love. I m so thrilled that, at last, Michael has his own Grandbaby to cherish.