A GRANDMOTHER'S JOY--THE WONDERFULNESS THAT IS AVERY

During the summer, I wrote about Avery’s formula for world peace. Well, things continue to evolve. She just turned 5 last week and now has a 3 month old sister, Emilia. It’s been difficult not to see them during the pandemic, which tempers the joy that they are with the sadness that’s around us. But, as we think about Avery evolving, Howard and I continue to be awed and amused.

Wedding Plans—They’re on hold since I wrote about them this past summer. Avery has a new suitor (for lack of a better word, though using it makes me sound like I walked out of a 19th century novel). I don’t know if it’s the change in her boy friend, the limits of a pandemic, or the fact that Avery always has many types of plans churning in that amazing brain. But there aren’t any current wedding plans. She’s moved back a step. Now, the plan is to bring him to meet us when COVID is over. (Sadly, she understands the constraints of the pandemic.) But, she is still a planner. She’s already asked him if he would eat peanut butter and chocolate chip sandwiches—one of her favorites among my specialties. And, she’s warned him that he’s going to have to be careful with all of the glass in our house. I try to imagine how this played out—was it a lecture, an interaction, a lesson? Whatever it was, she’s still planning.

The Decisive Child—In nostalgic moments, Howard and I think about being with her for her birthday last year. Taking her out to the local diner is always an adventure, the best part of which is dessert. As we walk in, she eyes the dessert kiosk for a short moment. At dinner, she sits with me. When we’re ready for dessert, she slides under the table to Howard, takes his hand and they walk back to the dessert kiosk. She leads and never gets lost. She only needs a few short moments to make a decision. She points decisively to a piece of cake—no hesitation-- and Howard places the order. When they return to the table, she has an idea. “We need three pieces.” I look at her, eyebrows raised. The one piece is the size of her head. “No, Avery, I think that we wouldn’t be able to walk out if we each ate such a big piece.” She’s okay with that. But, hey, it was worth a try.

The Consumerist—On that last birthday visit, we took her out of pre-school for fun grandparent time, which included pizza. We ordered the Medium pizza. It arrived, ample sized and looking good. We thought that she’d be fine with it. The waiter walked to the next table. In her most indignant voice, Avery broadcasted—“We ordered a MEDIUM but this is a LARGE MEDIUM!” My little clone—it has to be right or else… The waiter, patient and good humored, gently explained that this was a Medium pizza. Howard and I explained the nuanced discrepancies that can occur between pizzas. She thought for a moment and decided that she didn’t need a manager.

The Sensitive Child—Special after dinner treat—hot chocolate. We had bought her unicorn hot chocolate, which means colored marshmallows. Howard and I were full, but wanted to share a special moment. I told her that he and I would share a cup, and that she can have our marshmallows since I can live without them and we know that she likes them so much. “But I want it to be special for Grandpa”. Nothing could have been more special than that moment.

The Hard Headed Child—Introducing new foods is not easy. We had gone to the farmers market. We let her pick out dinner. She wanted salmon. She and Andy, our trusty fish vendor, spent quality time choosing the right piece. Next, over to the vegetable stand. She wanted green beans. I told her that Grandpa likes pea pods. She still wanted green beans. I had a good idea and taught her the all-important “C word”—Compromise. Let’s get green beans, and she can try pea pods, too. She hesitated, but agreed. When I started to trim the ends, she decided to go nuts, ran upstairs and sulked. It took a while to explain that this is what I usually do, but I, too, can compromise, and can make the rest without trimming the ends. That was okay. And, she liked them. She asked Tracy if she would buy pea pods. Small victory for Nana.

The Fashionista/Jewelry Lover—I love jewelry and love to design it. One day, I walked into Neiman Marcus, wearing a necklace that I’d designed. The jewelry manager offered me a trunk show on the spot. I find special elements and create the design, then send everything to a wonderful jeweler in Virginia for fabrication. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough pieces to do a trunk show. So, that one will be on my epitaph. But Avery loves my designs and says that I’m “the best jewelry maker in the whole world”. I haven’t introduced her to Cartier yet, but I revel in her idolatry. I started her with jewelry at a very young age. When she was only 6 weeks old, she would fall asleep on my shoulder, her little hand clutching my necklace. And so it’s continued. She wears a necklace almost every day. Her favorites are the ones that I designed, but she’s also started to make some out of jewelry kits. I told her how sad I am that I can’t find elements so easily now because of the pandemic. She showed me some plastic gemstones from her kits—good choices. She started to carefully wrap two pieces and says that I can have them——to make something for her. That works for me.

One day, she had chosen a dress, put it on, and looking in the mirror said, “I look so chic”. That’s so true! I asked if I ever look chic. She replied that I do, but I’d look more chic if I didn’t wear black so often. I explained that black is very chic, and I wear it so much because it’s great for jewelry. She looked at me intently—she definitely understands.

The Instructive Child—I thought that Avery would find a hard luck Cory story amusing. Cory took his dog for a walk. Bowie accidentally stepped into a muddy area and came up with more mud than I could imagine. Poor Cory had to give him a bath. Bowie is the hairiest dog in the world. He wags his tail and you could make a wig out of the hair that flies. Imagine this bath—hair, mud. And Bowie hates baths. He cried and shook the mud all over Cory. When I told Avery about it, she didn’t believe me. She informed me that cats don’t like water, but dogs do. Where did she learn that? And what do I know about animal preferences? So, I decided to teach her a more valuable lesson. I explained that there are exceptions to every rule, and Bowie is the exception in this scenario. She looked at me as she did when I explained my preference for black clothes. Let’s see if she incorporates this lesson. I know that I learned about dogs, cats and water.

IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT CREATE THE BIGGER PICTURE. WE LOVE THE BABY THAT SHE WAS. WE’RE FASCINATED AND ENCHANTED WITH WHO SHE IS NOW. WHAT WONDERS WILL WE HAVE TO LOOK FORWARD TO?