My oldest grandson, the kiddo in orange above, the one who converted me from mother to grandmother, is eight years old. Every January since Bubby was born, from his very first January to the one last year, I've flown to the desert to visit him — and eventually his brothers Mac and Jak, too, as they expanded the family in perfectly timed three-year increments one after the other.

Most often, I made the 800 plus-mile trek from the mountains to the desert to care for the boys while Daddy attended an annual out-of-town conference and Mommy went along with. (Though last January's visit was related to our Disney GRAND Adventure.)

I've gotten used to those January visits. Grew to expect those January...