The one in which I eat my words

/

Guess who Grandma gets to see in 22 days!

In July I wrote a post called

Dear Southwest Airlines

, in which I bid the airline farewell. I'd been flying back and forth on Southwest to see Bubby in the desert ever since he'd been born. Then Allegiant arrived in town, batting its eyelashes and cheap fares with service to Bubby, and I thought I no longer needed Southwest.

How wrong I was.

Many times since Allegiant set up shop at the airport 10 minutes from my home, with supposedly inexpensive service to an airport not too far from Bubby's home, I've researched flights for upcoming visits on both Allegiant and Southwest. Much to my surprise -- and chagrin -- Southwest keeps winning out. And winning the dollars from my travel budget. And winning me over once and for all.

Allegiant flies to and from Bubby's home only twice a week, leaving my home each Wednesday and Saturday afternoon. All fine and good. The return flights are the same days -- Wednesday and Saturday. At cussing SIX O' CLOCK IN THE MORNING! That's the ONLY time. Ever. Which means I'd have to leave Bubby's house at about 3 a.m. in order to make that flight. Always.

Okay, yeah, sometimes there's a little inconvenience when getting a cheap flight. We'll make do, I told myself.

So keeping in mind the trade-off of funky times in exchange for cheap fares, I went to book tickets for Jim, Brianna, Andrea and myself to go to Bubby's house for Thanksgiving. But the flights were not cheap on Allegiant. In fact, they were a bit more than those on Southwest. And Southwest had several options of times, none that required leaving Bubby's at 3 a.m.

So I booked four tickets on Southwest. Yes, we'll have to drive 50 or so miles to the airport -- when Allegiant takes off just 10 minutes from my door -- but the list of pros and cons fell clearly in favor of Southwest.

Soon after, in return for my, ahem, loyalty, Southwest sent me a voucher for a free flight to anywhere I want, good for one year. What did I do with that freebie? Well, what do you think I did? I booked a flight to see Bubby, of course! For the end of this month!

The freebie from Southwest went a long way toward mending my broken heart after a failed attempt to schedule a visit from Megan and Bubby in October. I'd been thinking I truly would not make it without major chinks in my heart if I had to go without seeing Bubby until Thanksgiving. Then Southwest came to my rescue.

Thank you, Southwest!

But wait! That's not all!

One day last week I went to the mailbox and found a letter from Southwest. My first thought was that they'd finally read my Dear John letter to them and were rescinding my travel rights on their airline for being such a cuss. They'd show me who was boss, I feared, and I would indeed be using only 6 a.m. flightson Allegiant for my visits with Bubby.

I quickly tore open the letter to find ... FOUR DRINK TICKETS! "Have a drink on us!" good ol' Southwest told me, in appreciation of my loyalty to the company.

Sheesh, nothing like free drinks to make a grandma feel like a heel.

Although I have no plans to imbibe while in the air as I travel to see Bubby -- either on my visit in a few weeks or on the Thanksgiving trip -- it gives me a warm fuzzy just to know I could if I wanted. For free. Courtesy of Southwest Airlines.

Then again, maybe I will take them up on the offer. A stiff 7-and-7 will be great for washing down the sharp and snarky words about Southwest that I'm now eating, just three months after having written them.

Cheers!

Today's question:

What do you usually drink -- alcoholic or otherwise -- when flying?

Jekyll, Hyde and Bubby

/

Bubby's mom, Megan, was an incredibly moody and sensitive child, the most senstive of my three daughters.

Based on our latest Skype visit with Bubby, seems that Megan's finally getting paid back for all she put her parents through.

From the heights of happiness to the depths of despair, I think Bubby covered it all in our 20-minute visit. All the while. Megan just shook her head, saying, "Yep, he's two."

He's not just two, Megan. He's just like you!

Today's question:

What question would you like to see asked of Grandma's Briefs readers?

Photo replay

/

Related Posts with ThumbnailsMegan's friend Alison is a fantastic photographer, so she's the go-to portrait person when it comes to Bubby. This is one of the photos Alison took to mark Bubby hitting two years of age.

Hard to believe what a big boy he's become in two short years!

Today's question:

How often do you have professional portraits taken, as a family, couple or individual?

Not in Grandma's job description

/

Bubby's in trouble.Soon after I published the post about Bubby seeming mature beyond his two years by taking responsibility for his actions, he had a horrid day marked by, as Megan put it, "making bad choices."

In other words, he acted like a two-year-old.

Seems that Bubby pushed down a little girl he didn't want invading his personal space. He didn't balk over the subsequent time-out, he didn't apologize to his victim, and, more distressing to Megan, he didn't express any remorse over his dastardly deed.

Megan had a serious conversation with Bubby to let him know such behavior is not acceptable. "We use our hands to love, not to hurt" was the theme of her lecture. She also assigned Preston to follow through with a similar lecture when he got home from work that evening.

And she called me to ask that Gramma and PawDad mention it during our weekly Skyping session, that we stress the importance of being kind to others, making good decisions, doing the right thing. No problem, I told her. By all means, we can reinforce good behavior.

Facing the music.Then we proceeded to Skype. Jim and I started off the video conversation with questions about the incident and admonitions about being nice to others.

And it sucked. For all of us.

Bubby faced the music -- and the webcam -- with reservation and solemnity not typical of our Skype time. The happy little grin that usually fills our computer screen during our video visits was replaced with a sad, seemingly confused little boy who didn't understand how Gramma and PawDad could be so serious with him.

It was a painful moment for Bubby. It was a painful moment for me and Jim. I think it was a tad uncomfortable, possibly even painful, for Megan.

Again, it sucked. For all of us.

So we all -- most importantly, Bubby -- quickly agreed Bubby would make better choices going forward. Apology accepted. We moved on to happy talk. We read a story book. Bubby's grin appeared. It also appeared Bubby had learned his lesson.

Apology accepted!I know I certainly learned mine: Going forward, lecturing will be left to Megan and Preston. Skype time with Bubby is too precious to have it tainted by stern talk in somber voices and a sad little boy staring back at me on the computer screen.

I'm willing to have Megan's back on the reinforcing of proper behavior and such. Believe me, I understand the necessity for such. But if she wants me to do it with a heavy hand, she'll need to move closer so I can do it in person because I hereby declare I will no longer do teleconference lecturing.

Teleconference lecturing is not in the job description for long-distance grandmas. At least not in this long-distance grandma's job description.

Today's question:

When has the "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you" adage come into play for you?

Rated M for mature

/
Related Posts with ThumbnailsIt's been one month since I last saw Bubby and in those few passing weeks, my grandson has grown by leaps and bounds. It's not so much that Bubby has grown -- he hasn't shot up several inches or moved on to a bigger size of clothing. It's more that he has matured.

To wit:

  • Bubby no longer wears a diaper. Woo-hoo! Big boy underwear is the garment of choice -- adorned with trains and more -- and Pull-ups are worn only at night. Even so, the nights have been dry. (If you ask me, it was far too easy for Megan. Aren't boys supposedly much more difficult to potty train than girls?)
  • Bubby is now a seasoned school boy, attending preschool five days a week.
  • Thus far into his school career, Bubby has already been attacked by bullies three times. The first came in generic bully form: a tough little cuss who also serves as one of Bubby's best friends. Apparently this little kid likes to push and shove and make other bad choices when it comes to interacting with his fellow classmates. The second bully Bubby faced was strep. An antiobiotic helped him face down this particular bully. And this one did carry a silver lining: Because of the strep, Bubby was absent the day Bully-Boy pulled out the big guns -- his chompers -- which he used to chomp nearly every other two-year-old in the class. The third bully? A stomach bug. I gotta hand it to Bubby for his response to this bad guy. Despite the yuckiness that goes along with stomach bugs, my little trooper maintained status quo on potty training, with no backsliding into diapers and no messes. Well, no messes that come from the diaper end.
  • As the ties of friendship between Bubby and Bully-Boy remain strong despite Bully-Boy's treatment of Bubby, Bubby has participated in making some not so great decisions. He's not been busted by the teacher for his infractions, though. Only his buddy has. Yet after witnessing Bully-Boy complete a time-out handed down by the teacher for an unnamed act, Bubby confronted the teacher, told her he needed a time-out for something he'd done, and proceeded to take his turn in the time-out chair. After a minute or so, Bubby told the teacher "All done" then merrily went on his way, satisfied that he'd done his time ... for a crime the teacher didn't even know he'd committed.
  • Bubby has mastered the art of conversation ... and how to cut it short when a Chatty Cathy invades his space. Megan told of a recent day after school, with Bubby chilling in his car seat in the back while Megan drove them home. Questions from Megan of "How was your day?" and "What did you do in school?" were met with brief answers from Bubby followed by, "Stop talking, Mommy. No more talking." End of story, end of conversation. He needed to regroup after hours of interaction with toddlers, and he had no difficulty whatsoever letting Mommy know the time for talking was over.
  • Bubby also is mastering the art of golf, the swinging of the club in particular. By watching Mommy and Daddy practice golf on the Wii, Bubby has picked up a masterful technique he practices with his toy clubs and ball in the backyard. Just like Mommy and Daddy, he lines up the ball, grabs hold of the club, pulls the club back and ... swings! And just like Mommy and Daddy, when Bubby misses the ball or it goes in an unintended direction, he lets out an unmistakeable "Dammit!" (With this one, Mommy and Daddy learned a quick lesson themselves in finding more appropriate ways of expressing frustration with sloppy golf swings!)

Yessiree, my Bubby is maturing at a mind-blowing rate. What more will he master before I see him again? He's already figured out one of the most important lessons in life: the need to accept responsibility for your actions, your poor choices. Proved by giving himself a time-out for something the teacher didn't even see him do, my mature little Bubby already understands that regardless of whether anyone has witnessed it or not, if you do the crime, you do the time. It's as simple as that.

The real question: Will it remain as simple as that as Bubby's toddler years all-too-quickly become his teen years?

 

Today's question:

What lesson, action or experience (first child? first house? first divorce?) made you feel like you had matured and officially become an adult?