Dear Southwest Airlines

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Dear John Southwest,

You've been so good to me all these years that this is really difficult for me to write. To make it a little less painful for us both, I'm just going to say it up front: I believe it's time to cool our jets, for I've met someone new.

I hoped to keep my new dalliance secret, to not have to admit my loyalty no longer lies with you, but Thursday's press conference announcing $29 introductory flights and more made it impossible for me to pretend any longer. I've found a new love, a new best friend, a new way to fly to see my beloved grandson Bubby.

Yes, dear Southwest, you probably guessed it. It's Allegiant Air. They're back in town and I can no longer go on seeing you when it's Allegiant who has my heart, my bags, my flight to an airport near Bubby.

Me love you long time, Southwest, and you were oh-so good to me during that time. You carried my bags for free, offered up peanuts and pretzels at the same time, provided the most interesting airline publication of all, and even introduced Jim to Sky Mall ... and we have the replica of Mount Rushmore at the top of our backyard waterfall to forever prove Jim's appreciation for that serendipitous introduction.

Most importantly, though, you were my first, Southwest. You were the one to carry me relatively turbulence free to visit my brand-new grandbaby for the very first time, just days after his birth. And for that I will always love you.

But sometimes even the strongest of loves can't make a relationship work. Unfortunately, this is one of those times.

Please don't take it hard, as it's not you -- or your treatment of Kevin Smith -- it's me. I just need less. Less time driving to the airport; Allegiant will pick me up 10 minutes from my house whereas you required me to drive a minimum of 90 minutes to reach you. I need less time riding the parking lot shuttle, less time standing in the security line at the international airport where you're located, less time lining up in my designated slot to board. Oh, and less time scrambling to check in exactly 24 hours before flight time in order to make the A group.

(Which reminds me: I've always wondered who it was you were playing favorites with, who made it so that even though I checked in at the exact millisecond I was allowed, you granted me an A36 -- or worse! -- boarding pass. So maybe it is you, just a teensy eensy bit.)

But I won't hold that -- or the comment from the pilot on my last flight about how "gooood looooooking" the flight attendants were -- against you. Because despite a few questionable practices here and there, I hope we can still be friends, hope to still get together occassionally. For as wonderfully appealing as Allegiant is, they can't offer me everything: For one thing, they provide service from my town to Bubby's only twice a week and sometimes a long-distance grandma needs a little more flexibility than that. Those are the times, sweet Southwest, that I'll most treasure our long history and book some time aboard your wings.

Thank you, Southwest. I've been honored to be your passenger, to be part of your Rapid Rewards Club. And I hope you will, in return, honor the idea that the skies are indeed friendly, that you won't turn the other direction and pretend you don't see me when we pass one another as Allegiant carries me back and forth between the mountains and the desert, between my home and Bubby's.

You'll always hold a special place in my heart, Southwest. Don't ever forget that.

Friends forever,

Bubby's grandma, aka Rapid Rewards #248817951

Today's question:

What's your favorite airline and why?

We now pronounce you ...

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There's been a fair amount of conversation in our family regarding what the grandkids will call grandma. I kind of liked G-Ma; Megan wanted Grammy; Bubby has chosen "Granna" ... which also comes out, at times, as "Gramma." That's perfectly fine with me; it's much preferred over the original "Graya."

Not so much has been said about what Bubby and future grandchildren are to call Jim. His only request was that he NOT be called "Pop," as that was the moniker of his not-so-nice stepdad.

So Jim and I have been toodling along, figuring we're just plain ol' vanilla "Grandma and Grandpa."

Bubby seems  to have a different idea for Jim.

When he first started forming words and identifying things around him, Bubby mixed up his syllables for lots of things. So we didn't pay all that much attention to what he'd been calling Jim.

But during our Skyping session Tuesday night (which provided all the photos for this post), Bubby made it very clear -- after being asked "Who's that?" several times in reference to his grandpa -- that his pronunciation wasn't a mistake, that Jim is now and forever will be ...

... "PawDad!"

Yep, Bubby called him PawDad many times, all with a huge smile on his face.

And with that, "PawDad" Jim will be.

PawDad and Granna. Are there any better grandparenting names than that?

I don't think so. At least not for us!

    

Today's question:

What makes you laugh out loud?

MLB, NBA, PGA ... or MLE?

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I just gotta say, Bubby is a pretty talented kid. At two years old, he already shows an affinity for sports. He's got a bright future ahead of him, with Dad and Mom figuring the pros will soon be checking him out; recruiters covet left-handers, be it baseball, basketball, golf, and a left-hander my Bubby is.

I say forget the MLB, NBA and PGA, though, because from the looks of things, Bubby just may be in line to be a champion of the MLE. That's Major League Eating, and it's for real.

The MLE recently staged another championship event, with Sunday's Coney Island Fourth of July hot dog eating contest. (That's a link to ESPN, folks. See ... it's a real sport!) Stars of the MLE were there, as was the infamous MLE-resistant renegade: six-time hot-dog eating champ Takeru Kobayashi.

This grandma thinks Kobayashi and all the other championship gobblers better watch their backs as Bubby's gearing up for come pretty serious action. Although Bubby certainly won't be in line to win the title of championship hot-dog eater -- it's hard to practice for that event when Mom (and Grandma!) demand the dogs be sliced and diced before ingesting to prevent choking -- there are a few categories in which Bubby's already hitting it hard.

For starters, Bubby has quite an advantage in the popsicle category, with recent hours under his belt in both the Homemade Popsicle category ...

as well as the Slow-Melt Popsicle category ...

He's becoming quite proficient in the Birthday Cake category, too, with two years of winning rounds to his name ...

Also in the Baked Goods division is the Krispy Kreme Donut category, of which Bubby had his first taste on Grandma's birthday (did you all know Krispy Kreme gives you a FREE dozen donuts on your birthday?) ...

One of Bubby's newest competitive categories is the Bacon & Eggs division. This one he practices with Grandma's version of bacon and eggs, recipe courtesy of Grilled Grandma Judy:

Speaking of sweets, the Sweets category is Bubby's favorite, with the Longest Time Spent With A Pop-Ring Sucker award easily snatched up by Bubby during his recent Splash Pad birthday party:

There's always the chance, of course, that some other food champ will out eat Bubby. But there's one category Bubby definitely dominates, one which no other MLE member can ever take away from him. That would be, without a doubt, the category of Most Adorable Eater Ever!

Today's question:

If you were to be named a Championship Eater, what food would you be the champion of?

My answer: Guacamole! I can eat it anytime, anywhere, any amount. I love guacamole!

I survived Desert Party 2010

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When Megan and Preston moved to the desert, Jim and I told them we would never visit them there in the summer. It's too darn hot, we don't like the heat, we'll gladly stick to the mountains in the summer and visit them in the desert during the winter.

Then they went ahead and had Bubby in June. Meaning Jim and I must visit the desert in the summer if we want to participate in Bubby's birthday celebrations.

Last year, Bubby's first birthday, wasn't so bad. As several babies were in attendance, the party was held indoors, we had air-conditioning. Megan's announcement that his second birthday party would be held at the Splash Pad -- outdoors! -- was cause for concern. Temps in their town hover above the 100-degree mark this time of year, and Jim and I were pretty darn sure we'd die ... even though the party was held at 10 a.m.

Luckily we didn't die during last Saturday's party. In fact, the temperature was low, spirits were high and the party was a great time -- for everyone. Take a look:

SORRY! VIDEO DISAPPEARED IN BLOG REDESIGN!


Here's hoping Desert Party 2011 will be just as cool ... in terms of temperature and enjoyment!

Today's question:

If you could party with anyone -- living or not, real or imaginary -- who would you most like to celebrate with?

My answer: Ricky Gervais would be my party partner of choice, with Jim along, too, of course. I'm pretty sure he'd make me laugh so hard my ribs would hurt for days.

Megan's magical method

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One of the highlights of my visit to the desert was seeing that Megan's college education is truly paying off—at home.

You see, Megan has this amazing technique for keeping Bubby in line and all I can figure is that it was part of her early childhood education curriculum because it sure isn't something she gleaned from me.

What is Megan's Magical Method? She offers Bubby the opportunity "to make good choices." We're talking a two-year-old here. A two-year-old who understands the ultimatum and usually—happily! without coercion!—makes a good choice.

Bizarre, if you ask me, but it works.

For example, Bubby will be eating breakfast and after two bites he'll decide to drop his fruit, waffles, whatever onto the floor so Roxie, the dog, will eat it. Megan/Mom will warn him not to do it again, but Bubby will scrunch up his face into a "yeah, just watch this" smirk and continue dropping goodies to the dog.

So Megan whips out the big guns. In her calm but firm teacher voice she says, "Looks to me like someone's making bad choices. Are you making bad choices, Bubby? We like good choices, don't we?" Instantly, and I mean INSTANTLY, Bubby grins from ear to ear, says "Yes!" and plops the piece of food into his mouth instead of over the edge of his highchair tray.

When Bubby would obviously need to hit the sack and teetered on the edge of a tantrum, Megan went through the same "good choices versus bad choices" spiel. Right away, Bubby would grin and trot off to put on his pajamas, oh-so proud of himself for making a good choice.

Sheer magic! And I don't understand why it works. With a two-year-old. Yet it works again and again. Again and again I would watch in amazement, trying unsuccessfully to catch the sleight of hand.

How does she do it?

Now some of you may worry what happens when a bad choice by Bubby prevails, that maybe that's why it works—because Bubby is scared to death of Mom's reaction when he makes a bad choice. Does Megan yell and scream? Spank his diaper-padded bottom? Bind him with duct tape and toss him out as a super-size snack for the desert-roaming javelinas?

None of the above. When Bubby makes a bad choice, Megan simply does what every other normal, non-magical mom does: She puts Bubby in time out.

I actually witnessed Bubby's refusal to make a good choice once and the time out that followed. It broke my heart -- and the heart of GiGi, his paternal great-grandma, and his great aunt Katie—because, get this, it was smack dab in the middle of Bubby eating his birthday cake.

At one point soon after the "Happy Birthday" song, Bubby started being a little cuss, wouldn't choose the "good choice" option and ended up being whisked away to his timeout spot in the hallway, away from the action. He cried as Megan hauled him to the hallway while Gigi, Katie and I all stared at each other and worked to restrain our own tears. There Bubby sat ... for less than one minute. Then he gave in, told Mommy he was ready to make good choices and cheerfully danced his way back to his highchair to finish his cake.

Like I said, it's bizarre. Even if that's the only thing to come from Megan's four years at an expensive private college (and the massive PLUS loan Jim and I still make payments on), I say it was well worth it. Because we moms all know how difficult it is to get our kids to make good choices, to do what's right, to not follow the crowd of little cussers and be left with lifelong consequences. We know that all the time and money in the world matters not one whit when it comes to teaching our kiddos to make good choices, always and forever.

Jim and I joked again and again about how long the "good choices" tactic will work. Will a teenaged Bubby one day call from the tattoo parlor to warn Mom and Dad before showing up at home with a tat emblazoned across his shoulder, neck or shaved head?

Not likely. Megan's already working on nipping that possibility in the bud. When Brianna visited the week before Jim and I, Megan was quick to point out to Bubby the various (mostly discreet) tattoos Brianna has, telling him, "Aunt B made some bad choices, didn't she? Tattoos are a bad choice and we like good choices, don't we Bubby?"

And, of course, Bubby grinned from ear to ear and agreed. Because that's what boys who make good choices do—they listen to their mommy, agree with their mommy. At least for now. At least while he's two.

At least as long as Megan's Magical Method continues to work.

Today's question:

What is one of your more memorable GOOD choices or BAD choices?

My answer:  Bad choice -- using green food coloring (that's FOOD coloring) to color my hair for a Halloween party when I was 17. My green hair finally faded right about Christmas time!