No filter necessary

While I admit the truth hurts in many a case, unfiltered truths coming from the mouth of a three-and-a-half-year-old do no harm at all. Especially when the pint-sized truth-bearer is Bubby.

Bubby has a lot of toys. More toys than many a kid needs or could possibly ever play with. So when choosing a small gift to send my grandsons for Valentine's Day, I settled on some dinnerware from the Target dollar bin that sported robots on the plates, bowls, and eating utensils for Bubby. I packed them into a gift bag decorated with a robot, and added a box of chocolate/peanut butter candies and a lollipop decorated with a scene from The Adventures of Tin Tin.

I thought it was a pretty darn good gift, considering that Bubby and I—at his urging—did a lot of conversing in robot talk when we were last together, that chocolate and peanut butter are the only food groups he willingly consumes, and that he joyfully expressed his love for the Tin Tin movie when he and I saw it together.

I got a call Valentine's Day evening. Bubby's sweet little voice on the other end immediately announced, "Happy Valentimes Day, Gramma. Thank you for the package."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie!" I said. "How did you like it?"

"I really needed a toy," Bubby replied in a serious tone.

"Yeah, but you have lots of toys," I told him. "Now you can think of Gramma every time you eat on your robot dishes."

"Oh," he said, still quite serious. "I really needed a toy."

At that point, Megan took over the phone. "Ah, the truthfulness of a three-year-old," she said.

If it were anyone else responding to my gift in such a way, I might be offended. Not at all with Bubby, though. He probably really did feel like he needed a new toy and Gramma's lack of compliance clearly disappointed. Nothing wrong with him telling it like it is.

Bubby's response to the gift didn't surprise me a bit as he usually does tell it like it is. And sometimes his lack of a filter is just so darn sweet that he's forgiven for those times when it's not.

The purpose of my recent trip to the desert was for me to stay with my grandsons while Megan and Preston attended an out-of-state conference related to Preston's job. Late into the third day of babysitting duty, I sat in the rocker feeding Baby Mac when Bubby, who had been in the nearby playroom, sidled up to the side of the rocker, leaned his head on my arm and said in the most woebegone of voices, "I have a picture of Mommy and Daddy. I just wish it was real. I miss them double."

Oh, sweet sorrow unfiltered.

Bubby's expressions of love and joy are equally unfiltered. Later that same day, Bubby was tickling Baby Mac, causing them both to giggle up a storm. Bubby finished up the tickle session, nonchalantly walked away from his baby brother, and turned to tell me, "I love him bad. And he loves me bad."

When I later relayed both Bubbyisms to Megan, she responded with, "Awww...my little love bunny."

And a love bunny he certainly is. An unfiltered love bunny, that is, for better or worse.

I'm crossing my fingers Bubby remains unfiltered for many more years to come, for I wouldn't want my grandson any other way—even if it means hearing the truth about gifts from Gramma that weren't exactly what the little love bunny had hoped for. Or needed.

Today's question:

Which of your relationships would most benefit from a better filter—on statements made by you or to you?

Can't help but grin

Baby Mac didn't feel well during most of my recent visit, thanks to teething, a cold, and what turned out to be an ear infection.

That didn't stop my youngest grandson from giggling and grinning more often than not, though, even when feeling his very worst.

Yeah, I still have some work to do in mastering that new camera of mine. But you get the picture...for the most (precious) part.

Today's question:

When and why did you most recently laugh out loud (for real; no "LOL" funny business)?

A Birdy by any other name

Megan and Bubby, before he became "Bubby."Wednesday as I ran errands, I called Megan to see how she, Bubby and Preston were doing. They'd been sick -- Bubby had strep -- and I wanted to find out how recovery was going. I also wanted to verify the spelling of the name she and Preston had chosen for Birdy. So I asked. Which was clearly a mistake.

"We've not decided 100 percent that that is the name we're going with, Mom," Megan said. "Why are you getting so psycho about this?"

First let me say that I'm a pretty mellow person. I don't do a lot of yelling, I don't do a lot of freaking out, and I certainly don't go psycho. But because of my relative mellowness (if that's a word), the girls have always and forever considered it "freaking out" if I raise my voice and "going psycho" if I ask too many questions. 'Too many' usually being about three. I'd apparently hit my quota regarding Birdy's real-life name.

I had first asked what names Megan and Preston were considering not long after learning the baby would be a boy. A fairly innocuous question, I thought. Other than grandmotherly inquisitiveness, I was asking simply so I could have a reference point in coming up with a name to call my second grandson on this blog. Bubby was originally nicknamed "Bubby" in real life by Megan and Preston, and I thought there may be some real name followed by a nickname for Baby No. 2, the latter being what I'd use here. Because it was still early in the pregnancy, I gave it little thought when told there wasn't yet one.

The second time I asked was when Megan was experiencing some rather scary pregnancy problems that required lots of prayer. I find prayer to be a little easier, more personal -- seemingly more effective -- when I can put a name to those I'm praying for. So I asked ... and was immediately shut down. So I prayed for "the baby," and the baby turned out just fine.

After that, Megan and I talked now and then about the baby names under consideration. I'd offer up suggestions that fit the parameters they'd set for the name as they crossed my mind. She in turn would tell me a few she and Preston were tossing around. There was one in particular I did not like at all -- and told her so -- and it, fortunately, ended up being the name of the street they've moved to so that name was tossed out the window. Yes, it's not very nice of Grandma to vocalize dislike for a new grandchild's prospective name, but let's just say it was the name of an idiotic actor who thrives on Twitter and makes me nauseous. I couldn't help myself.

Eventually Megan told me the name she and Preston were pretty sure would be given to their newborn -- but I was sworn to secrecy, even to Jim, Brianna and Andrea. Which didn't make sense to me. ("What's the BFD?" is more along the lines of what I was thinking.) But I kept the secret. She did end up telling Jim herself. Brianna and Andrea still don't know. But Bubby does, and it's the name Bubby uses when talking about the brother in Mommy's tummy. So I figured it was a pretty sure thing.

Hence my question regarding spelling, my third and final time that put me over the line and into "psycho" territory. I wanted to know the spelling because I planned to buy the domain name matching the little guy's name before it was nabbed up, as they do have a fairly common last name. I purchased the domain names for everyone else in the family -- including Bubby -- and was trying to stay on top of things with Birdy.

Upon Megan's indignant response and questioning of my sanity because I wondered about the name and the secrecy surrounding it, I shot back at her.

"What's the deal?" I asked. "Ya know what I think it is? I think you're not even pregnant. There is no baby. You just needed an excuse for your weight gain because you're getting fat! Ha!"

I said it with a snicker. I said it in jest. Honest. Obviously, I've seen the ultrasounds, I have no doubt my daughter is pregnant. But because she was being so cussing stupid and secretive silly, I pulled out the big guns and shot them straight at my hyper-weight-sensitive daughter. Using the F-word. The F-word being "FAT".

Yep. That's the classy, grandmotherly way this grandma does things.

Sheesh. Maybe Megan's right. Maybe I really am "getting so psycho."

Today's question:

Have you ever greatly disliked the name given to any of the newer members of your family, immediate or extended?

Can he hear me now?

For the past month or so, Megan and I have had several conversations regarding Bubby's speech. Sometimes it seems he has a vast vocabulary; other times it seems he's regressing in his ability to pronounce words.

Bubby's preschool teacher casually mentioned to Megan that she might consider speech therapy for Bubby. When I heard that, I suggested that the first thing she should do is have his hearing checked. When Andrea was young, she had speech problems, all related to too many ear infections and an ignorant doctor who refused to put tubes in her ears, despite my insistence. (She eventually got the tubes as well as speech therapy and is now a masterful speaker.)

During my recent visit to the desert, it became clear that the fears and worries about Bubby's ability to talk appear to be unfounded. Bubby talks up a storm, all the time, about all things. He did, though, have a tendency -- especially at dinner time -- to interrupt the adult conversation with "What you say, Dad?" or "What you say, Mom?" Megan said she thinks it's more his way of having things explained to him that he didn't understand than it is a hearing problem. I agreed with her.

So other than needing work on a few vocabulary skills such as blends and digraphs -- for which I suggested activities from lessons that are part of the tutoring program I follow as a tutoring site coordinator -- Bubby's speech and hearing seem to be a non-issue.

At least it was until last Friday.

Megan called me Friday evening and said in a very serious tone, "You won't believe what your grandson has done." Of course, I imagined all kinds of deadly or dastardly deeds and feared for the physical and psychological well-being of my grandson.

The story from Megan was that she had come home from work Friday afternoon, bid goodbye to GiGi -- Bubby's paternal great-grandma who babysits him on Fridays -- then went about her usual afternoon activities. Bubby, though, was acting rather unusual. Again and again he asked Megan, "What you say?" and kept saying "What? I can't hear you" and "Turn it up, Mommy, I can't hear it" regarding his television programs.

His insistence led Megan to inspect the little guy's ears, where she found what appeared to be excess wax build-up in one ear.

So she and Preston proceeded to remove the wax. All the while Bubby insisted "It's a seed." Megan explained to him that, no, it's not a seed, it's ear wax and Daddy's gonna get it out.

Daddy skillfully removed the gunk. Only it wasn't gunk, it was indeed, as Bubby tried to convince them, a seed. A popcorn kernel, to be exact.

Instead of telling Mommy, "See, I told you it was a seed," as I imagine Megan herself would have said as a kid, Bubby simply announced of his now clear-as-a-bell audio ability, "I can hear!"

Funny thing is, Megan said she can't recall the last time they had popcorn!

Bubby later told Mommy he found kernels under the couch and proceeded to put one in his mouth and one in his ear. Why in the world he would stick a popcorn kernel in his ear is beyond any of us.

The real question, though, is how long has the darn thing been in there?

Even more so, how did all of us who have bathed Bubby in the last month -- or hugged or kissed or played with him -- miss seeing a popcorn kernel in the little dickens' ear?!

Today's question:

Because of Bubby's silliness, the song "Beans in Your Ears" ("My mommy said not to put beans in my ears ... I can't hear the teacher with beans in my ears ...") has been stuck in my head for days now. What wacky childhood song or nursery rhyme do you find gets frustratingly stuck in your head now and again?

Grandma's got a brand-new bag

Full disclosure here: Contrary to the post title, this grandma doesn't really have a brand-new bag. What I do have is an

old

bag filled with

new

fun to share with Bubby when I visit him next week.

Here's the deal: Soon after Megan first had Bubby, one little girl in her class regaled Megan with tales of her visiting grandma. A primary reason for the girl's excitement, Megan learned, was the special bag Grandma brought along every time she visited her grandchildren. The bag was filled with all kinds of goodies for the grandchildren to use and share and enjoy during the visit, but the fun was always packed up with Grandma to take home with her, keeping it fresh and exciting for the kids each time.

It sounded like a wonderful idea back when Megan told me, and now that Bubby has reached the age where he'd be delighted by such a thing, I'm copying the idea.

I've gathered together some goodies for the inaugural toting of my very own Gramma's bag to the desert, and here are the nine things I have inside it so far:

Disney movies. It'll take years and years before Bubby is caught up on the wonders of Walt Disney movies, but this time we'll likely fit in at least one, chosen from Wall-E, Robots and Monsters, Inc.

Picture books. I have piles of picture books to review, and a visit with Bubby is the perfect time to try them out on their intended audience.

A Hatch-N-Grow dinosaur egg. I'm willing to bet Bubby will no longer be afraid of the hatching egg and is ready for hatching his own. I think it'll make a difference for Gramma to be there to get things started ... and to bring along the dinosaur hatched from my practice run.

KIDZ BOP Dance Party video game for the Wii. This, too, is a review item I recently received. Considering Bubby's love for the KIDZ BOP CD -- and Megan and Preston's wish for some active games for their new Wii -- I'm thinking this will be the highlight of the bag.

"Mini Disco Set." Along with the dance party game above, I received a rotating mirror ball, LED light and three neon glow-in-the-dark party sticks to really set the dance party vibe. This grandma can't wait to get the party started!

The Original Squirmles. Okay, I still gotta figure out how to make these darn things squirm, but the young man at Bed, Bath and Beyond said they're all the rage with the kids nowadays.

A "Find-It" container. Hidden within a tube filled with beads are shells, nails, Bobby pins, pennys and more that Bubby and I will do our darndest to find all 47 on the list.

An Elmo flash drive for toddlers. Another review item, this nifty little USB drive is already loaded with a "Best of Elmo" video, with space left for me to add photos or videos for Bubby to enjoy anytime Megan will let him plug it in to a USB port on the computer. I'll teach my favorite toddler in the world how to plug it in -- or how to wear it on his wrist when not in use.

Caramel Apple Taffy. THIS is my favorite holiday candy, taffy that is available only for a short time (at least where I live) beginning around Halloween. I figure it can't hurt to share some of Gramma's favorite candy with her favorite grandson.

There's still a week before takeoff, so who knows what may be added. My plan is to keep the bag filled with these items and more so Bubby eagerly anticipates the opening of Gramma's bag during each visit, just as Megan's former student did with her grandma's bag.

Of course, I'm already thinking I may have to relax my rules just a tad and leave an item or two with Bubby when I head home. No sense having the fun (and Elmo flash drive) wasting away, unused in a bag in the closet for months, when a little boy (and his parents) could be enjoying it. Right?

Besides, leaving an item or two will give me more space to add something new to Gramma's bag -- just in time for the Thanksgiving visit!

Today's question:

What do you remember about your grandmother's or mother's bag or purse?