And we think kids grow fast! Plus, GRAND Social No. 323 link party for grandparents

And we think kids grow fast! Plus, GRAND Social No. 323 link party for grandparents

And we think kids grow fast!

My grandsons’ beloved Roxy past away a couple months ago. As home wasn’t the same without their best buddy, they soon adopted another golden girl and named her Emmy.

She’s adorable and Brayden, Camden, and Declan adore her—as Mommy and Daddy, too.

One thing about puppies is how well they put into perspective how quickly canine kids grow in comparison to how quickly our grandkiddos grow.

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Conflicting wishes

Bubby visited Santa over the weekend. Last year, he clung to Daddy and refused to enjoy his time with Mr. Magical himself. This year, though, he did much better:

Despite being nervous about the visit -- hence the hand in the mouth -- Bubby did okay. He even managed to tell Santa what he wants for Christmas.

And what may that be?

A big orange truck!

Which comes as a surprise considering Bubby, as some of you may recall, already has a big orange truck:

I suppose at two-and-a-half-years-old, when you love something dearly, you have no qualms requesting more of the same.

Hopefully Bubby will forget all about having asked for a big orange truck once he sees all the other loot from Santa because I'm betting he won't find one under his tree come Christmas morning. One big orange truck is more than enough for one little boy.

Plus, I'm pretty sure poor Roxy -- who's often the unintentional hit-and-run doggy victim of the big orange truck -- has been fervently asking Santy Paws to make all her Christmas dreams come true ... by getting rid of Bubby's big orange truck and never again allowing such tools of terror to be added to Bubby's toy collection.

Holiday question of the day:

What's one thing you're hoping to find under the tree for yourself on Christmas morning?

Wonder dog

Related Posts with ThumbnailsI'm an overprotective mother with an overactive imagination to match. As time marches on, I've also become an overprotective grandma with little to no change in the activity level of my imagination.


I've always worried about the typical hazards of childhood: SIDS, falling down stairs, falling off bikes, choking on hot dogs or grapes that haven't been cut into appropriately sized pieces. In fact, one of my first posts here on Grandma's Briefs was about recent stats on televisions falling on kids.

But I worry even more about the uncommon, bizarre things that could befall little ones. Things like being trampled by elephants at the circus. Or scarves getting caught in bicycle, motorcycle or automobile wheels a la Isadora Duncan. Or meteors or airplanes falling out of the sky directly onto one's house. Or diseases that are the stuff of Stephen King novels and afflict only 1 in 3 trillion people. Yeah, chances are your child won't be afflicted. But what if your baby is that unlucky one?

A friend of mine used to think I was nuts. I'd ask if she'd heard about this scary statistic or that bizarre news story and she'd "tsk, tsk" and shake her head at her crazy older friend obsessed with danger. Then she had kids. And now she understands my obsession with all the possibilities lurking out there, possibilities just waiting to maim or do worse to loved ones.

I truly thought I knew of all those possibilities ... or at least knew to worry about the possibilities I didn't know of. But Megan recently shared a new one that never even crossed my mind. One that has me on edge and freaking out a little concerned about the safety of my Bubby. It's one of those that falls under the heading of Scary Stuff That Happens To Only One in Three Trillion People -- and it happened to Megan and Bubby.

The other night, Megan was innocently enough grilling chicken on the patio. Bubby and Roxy were playing in the yard, doing typical boy-and-his-best-friend stuff. Until Roxy heard something that piqued her interest and she dashed off to bark at whomever or whatever it was on the trail. She dashed off so fast and furious that she shot rocks across the rock-landscaped backyard. Shot them so hard that one whizzed into the sliding glass door and busted it. The outer pane of the double-paned door totally, completely and instantly became the most beautifully rendered crackle-glass door ever. A now crazy-paned door right in the area my grandson -- and my daughter -- had stood just moments before.

Scary and dangerous and bizarre and all those other things, wouldn't you say?

What's even scarier is that the glass repair guy is booked for several days and unable to repair the door anytime soon. Which leaves just off Bubby's kitchen a broken glass door with the potential to, at any moment, shatter and send life-endangering pieces of glass everywhere.

And leaving -- despite Megan's adamant proclamations that Bubby can't get to it -- Bubby in danger.

Which leaves me in a tizzy.

It also leaves me wondering if Bubby needs to say goodbye to his little friend. A dog able to spin out so quickly that its paws shoot out deadly bullet-like rocks creates a whole 'nother set of dangerous possibilities.

Possibilities I'd really rather not have to worry about.

Today's question:

What's one of your more irrational fears/worries/concerns?

My answer: I worry that I'll finally win Publishers Clearing House and the Prize Patrol will show up at my door at a time I've not yet taken a shower, forcing me to decide if I want the money badly enough to be seen on national television in my jammies, with wild hair and no makeup. What? It could happen!

This post linked to Grandparent's Say It Saturday.

The Saturday Post

I think it's only fair to disclose that although Bubby is my favorite granchild, he's not my only one. To be honest, I have several.

And since I write so much about Bubby, I suppose it's only right to dedicate at least one post to introducing you to all the others.

Here goes:

This is Brianna's dog Hunter, my live-in granddoggy:

And this is Kamelia, Andrea's kitty (who's now about a year older than she was in this photo):

Last but not least, there's Roxy, aka Bubby's best buddy:

But since I've now introduced you to all my grandkiddos, I certainly can't leave out all my children -- those in addition to my grown gals, Brianna, Megan and Andrea.

Of course, you've already met Mickey:

But you've not yet met my all-time favorite (feline) gals:

Abigail (Abby):

And Isabel:

Yep, my house -- and heart -- are full. (Of course, additional HUMAN grandchildren are always more than welcome!)