Around the time of our grandson’s first birthday, I wrote a piece about what he might call me. Here’s a link to the original.

He has gone through several iterations of my title. Since his mimicking skills grow exponentially with each moment—more on that later—some of the have been quite funny.

He’s called me Joey, Buddy, and then settled on Fata (a shortened version of grandfather we assumed.)

But now he seems to prefer my title to be the full formal, Grandfather.

“Grandfather, go outside!”

“Grandfather, go to slide!”

“Grandfather, read books!”

His calling me grandfather gives the household a bit of a regal air. Like British aristocracy or other royal lineage.

He will occasionally slip back to the Joey when he hears my wife use the name, but he seems to be good with Grandfather for now.

“Come on, grandfather.”

“Let’s go, grandfather.”

“See you tomorrow, grandfather.”

As the normal course takes place, I assume the formality will fade and be replaced with a shortened version. But for now, I shall bear the burden of the Grandfather crown with great joy.

P.S. To get back to his mimicking skills, I fear he also has acquired the Broadmeadow sense of humor. One of his favorite sayings—which no one will lay claim to uttering in his presence—is holy shit. The funny part is, he almost always uses it in the appropriate context.

The other day we took him to Petco to look at the fish (Hey, it is a free aquarium!) He spotted his beloved trash truck and we had to watch the ceremonial dumping of a huge dumpster. The driver, as he was leaving, saw Levi waving and gave a good long blast on the horn.

“Holy Shit” Levi yelled, nearly jumping out of his skin.  And don’t ever make the mistake of letting him see a smile in reaction. Holy shit turns into a full chorus repeated in between giggles for as long as he cares to.

He has another one that we are all certain he learned from his mother (don’t tell her I reported this) that relates to an incident where another driver cut off my daughter. Thus, every time someone hits the brakes we get a very clear, very understandable, “what the f&^%& are you doing?”

I can’t wait for the calls from school.

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