They Call Me Sassy

Note: This Chicken Soup For the Soul submission was accepted for publication in 2019, Grandparents.  They changed the title to “Who I Want to Be.” 

We learned we were going to be grandparents via FaceTime during Thanksgiving dinner.  The room erupted in laughter and happy tears.  When the commotion died down, my eldest so asked, “so, Mom, what are the grandkids going to call you?”

What a good question!  Through the years, I had considered what I wanted my grandmother name to be, always knowing that ultimately I would answer to whatever this first grandchild chose to call me. It was important to me that my name didn’t cause confusion with the assorted grandmothers and great-grandmothers within the family, and many of the traditional names like Grandmama, Granny, and grandmother were in use.  Besides, those didn’t fee right for me.  I wanted something that felt like a name, not a title.

I thought Lolli and Pop were possible contenders for my husband and me, but I was told “Not happening!” By the expectant parents, with all the siblings in agreement.  YaYa and PaPa were shot down, as were Tootsie and Pop.  Finally, they decide that Papa had merit.  My husband had his name!  I, however, was still nameless.

At Christmas, I still hadn’t found a name that fit, so the kids decided to get more involved.  Instead of asking what I wanted to be called, they asked what kind of grandmother I wanted to be.

Significant.  I want to be significant in my grandchildren’s lives.  I want to bake cookies, tell bedtime stories, go to school, programs, and rock them to sleep.  When we are miles apart, I want these precious children of my children to know my heart as well as my voice.  I want to be one of the “God blesses” in their nightly prayers.

Adventurous.  I dream of watching butterflies sipping nectar from a daylily while listening to a little voice describe the colors on its wings.  What fun we will have running barefoot through the grass and sliding down hills on flattened cardboard boxes, imagining that we are on a runaway train or an airplane going to a far-off land.  The living room will be a wonderful place to build castles and forts from blankets and cardboard boxes, acting out scenes from our favorite books and our imaginations.

Sensitive.  I want my grandchildren’s emotions to be safe with me.  I want to share belly laughs, whisper hopes and dreams, and chase monsters under the bed. I want to listen more and talk less, being there for my grandchildren.

Spiritual.  I want to make memories of bedtime prayers and Bible stories, getting ready for church, and making sure that there is an offering to put in the plate.  I want to talk about heaven, looking at clouds,  and wondering together if the streets of gold are shiny or dull.  I want to tell my grandchildren about all the ways that Jesus has been good to me, how much He loves them, and make sure that they know when I am not on this earth any more that I am safe with Him.

Youthful.  There is no better way to look at the world than through a child’s eyes.  I want to watch an ant on the ground and make up stories about what he is doing and where he is going.  I want to giggle while playing peek-a-boo and laugh every time a big splash is made in the bathtub full of bubbles.  I want to be the grandmother who plays inside and outside, experiencing joy with each grandchild, according to his or her personality and interests.

After dreaming out loud about what kind of grandmother I wanted to be, my adult kids decided to put three names in a hat and randomly select my name.  They made a big production out of it.

My name couldn’t be more perfect.  They call me Sassy.