My granddaughter, Coco, spent the night with me this weekend at my condo. She’s five.  There’s a vast difference in our ages, since she’s the youngest daughter of my youngest son. I could easily be her great-grandmother.  I wish she had know me when I was a bit more nimble.  In my prime, I taught my sons and daughter to play baseball, ride a horse and climb hills. But in the cycle of life, I won’t get to do those things with her.  At least, not with the same vigor.

Instead, we engaged in less robust pursuits.  We went to the park, the ice cream shop and book store.  All of which made us both very happy.  Just being out from under the shadow of her older sisters was treat enough for a fourth child.  During her stay, I had to forgo blogging and watching the horrifying news shows, which was probably a good thing.  And I let her stay up an hour and a half past her bedtime. Hey, what’s a grandmother for?

As I’ve noted in previous blogs, Coco is into cooking, so we cooked designer pancakes for breakfast.

The next day she was off to a birthday party and I was changing gears, readying for adult overnight guests and a STL reunion of Team Carnahan, a gathering of former staffers of our family’s many political campaigns.  What fun it will be to see them.

Happy times, happy memories all weekend long.