During the eternity before our children had children, I tried to comfort everybody by asking, "Who wants to be married to a grandmother anyway?"
Now that the toddlers have arrived, I am not married to a grandmother but to at least 10 of them:
Grandma the Nurturer: An artist of really small orders of pasta and nonrunny eggs.
Grandma the Disciplinarian: "Please don't leave your juice glass on the sofa."
Grandma the Arbitrator: "How about taking turns with the hose?"
Grandma the Pedagogue: "What's the first thing you do to put lipstick away?" Smeary moppet competently twists tube and retracts half-inch of product.
Grandma the Athlete: Who knew she'd show them how to jump on the bed?
Grandma the Entertainer: So what if someone who can barely put a sentence together calls her "silly Grandma"?
Grandma the Acolyte: Always quick to marvel at the artist's work and mop up what spilled onto the table.
Grandma the Diaper Dervish: It's enough that she does it at all, but she does it so fast with backfields in motion.
Grandma the Perfectionist: To 3-year-old helping feed baby brother: "No, not in his nose."
Grandma the Grandma: "I love you."