Blogs > From The Bleacher Seats

A roundup of news on sporting events, people and places in Southeast Michigan by columnist Jim Evans.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Just call me "Gramps"

Meet Josie Mae, my first grandchild!

I’m a grandpa.
That designation doesn’t bother me in the least.
I’ve never been hung up about age. You turn 50. You join AARP. You get discounts at restaurants, hotels and rental car agencies.
So what is the problem?
Our son, Kyle, and Dawn have a beautiful daughter. Josie Mae is just about one month old.
She’s as cute as can be, too.
My wife, Kim, and I were over at their house Saturday.
I held Josie Mae for awhile. She was sleeping. I murmured her name. I kissed her more than once.
The bliss lasted 10 or 15 minutes and then she started fussing.
That precipitated the handoff.
I handed Josie Mae off to grandma.
I call it the handoff. Maybe it’s my background in sports.
Not a lateral. Not a swing pass. Definitely not a post pattern that covers half a football field.
But a handoff of an infant is all right.
That, I discovered, is the key difference between being a dad and being a grandpa.
You can’t hand off your own kids.
Mom already has bags the size of Samonsonites under her eyes.
So you tuck and run. Stutter step left to the car. Keep moving in a stroller. Motion is a pretty good way to halt the fussing.
I love Kyle. I love Dawn. I love Josie Mae.
I love the handoff, too. Being a grandpa is easy.


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