Plenty of my friends and acquaintances suggested that I might become besotted by our grandbaby upon her arrival. I highly doubted that. Sure, I had fiercely adored my children and done my absolute best to guide them and protect them. But I definitely wasn't the type who baked or sewed or was even remotely crafty. Costumes to be devised for the latest school performance filled me with dread. The beginning of each school term was embraced with sheer relief. No tears in my eyes as I booted out the offspring to whichever educational institute they were attending. In short, I don't think I was a very Mumsy Mum and I didn't think much would change with the tiny hooman who became Imogen Ivy.
I must admit to some stirrings of emotion as Bron's pregnancy progressed. I took courage in hand to buy the known female baby a pretty little frock to be put away until her second summer. As the due date approached, my anxiety was pleading with the gods to have her born safely. In the finale of her exit from in-utero and the advent of her entrance into this world, I was ecstatically relieved and hopelessly in love with my yet-to-be-seen little grandperson.
When we finally clapped eyes on her a couple of days later, I gazed into her eyes and immediately became putty in her palms. I eagerly awaited each visit either here in Heavenly Beverley or there at Cal and Bron's northern suburbs home. I began to find excuses to plead substantial extensions on our trips to the Big Smoke for a precious hour in her orbit.
I had turned into the grandmother I never dreamt I'd be. I have embraced being Nanny Kate with unbridled glee. Michael has been dragged along for the ride as Grampy whether he wanted to or not. However, one all-knowing little princess managed to edge her way into her Grampy's heart from the first cuddle, and although he has not delved into my depths of delighted delirium, his face always lights up at the sight of her.
Imogen's parents are amused to find themselves being "second fiddles" to their daughter. I had hoped that my descent into Nanny gaga might improve with Immy's growing up from babyhood. No such luck. I have changed nappies with gusto, shared conversations and songs with her from day one, joked about her Mummy and Daddy and Grampy within the whisperings of our very own enclave, laughed uproariously at her emerging mini tantrums and remembered all those fabulous rhyming stories from long ago - "Peepo" and "Hairy MacLary" and "Noisy Nora" and "Dear Zoo". I have been waiting and waiting for the appropriate little girl to come along so I may give full flight to my passion for reading out loud. In the correct characters of course.
Then there is the anticipation of acting out the "Three Billy Goats Gruff" - trip, trap, who's that tramping on my bridge?! - or "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" - the porridge was as hot as lava" (many thanks to Alex for that embellishment of an already excellent story) - or "Miss Polly had a Dolly" - who was sick, sick, sick...ooh, the possibilities are endless. I may even have to learn the names of the current crop of Playschool presenters.
Cal, Bron and Immy descended upon Station House for a joyous almost three days. There were new and unfamiliar books to read, a hilarious electronic set of drums the kittens learnt to play, giggles to be shared, walks to be had and watching Imogen Ivy beginning to show her very strong personality. In a fit of toddler temper, she flung the TV magazine on the floor as a response to a serious injustice. Michael and I were just overcome with mirth.
Callum is the World's Most Fabulous Daddy. With energy to burn, he was able to give Bron a break so she could read, snooze and unwind. Not to say that Bronwyn isn't the World's Greatest Mummy - she absolutely is but Cal can come to the rescue if her energy is flagging.
Immy was introduced to jelly as a dessert and after a hesitant start, consumed the stuff with relish. (Oh, my giddy aunt, there's another song...Jelly on a plate, jelly on a plate, wibble wobble, wibble wobble, jelly on a plate!) She loves banana, apple juice, cheese, pasta and moussaka! Definitely a cosmopolitan girl.
All too soon, the visit was over. The logistics were performed. The contents of staying with a toddler were packed back, somehow, into the Grand Vitara. They waved us goodbye to coincide with Immy's morning nap. However, they still gave us one final laugh. En route home, they stopped at Tentworld and purchased amongst other items, a hand-pumped espresso maker.
Happy happy birthday Callum. Until we see you, Bron and Immy again, I have three days of photographs and beautiful memories.
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