I am a fantastic grandmother.

My grandson, the Goonybird, and my girldog, Jett, are seated in the middle of the kitchen floor eating kibble off the carpet.
I checked...it's not one of the brands on the 'chinese melamine' list.
So it's ok.
Carry on.
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Whats more fun than a three-year old running around the house wearing a large pillow and cargo shorts? Handing same a giant tub of Kool-Wip and a spoon for breakfast, and watching him pick cheese fragments off the coffee table and drop them in. It's like a garnish. It is.
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The Goonybird has walked into the kitchen and asked for an ice cube, and I gave him one. He put it down the back of his underpants and walked away.
I swear to God I never dropped this child.
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While we were outside picking blueberries I taught him how to hear the eagles calling down the valley. 'They're yelling and yelling!' he was delighted with this. 'Do they have breakfast?'
"I guess so. They have fish for breakfast' I replied.
He thought about it.
'No, they eat cowards,' he stated.
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He removed his shorts and his underwear, and his sandals. The sandals have been replaced each on the wrong foot, and the underpants and shorts carefully turned around. 'Did you know those are going on backwards?" I asked him as he tugged them up over his butt.
Yes', he said. 'They're better this way."
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He has taught the dog how to eat blueberries.
They are lying on the floor in the kitchen sideways eating blueberries.
Sideways.
off the carpet.
With their faces.
Lying sideways on the carpet eating blueberries, scooting themselves along after the rolly berries with their hind legs.
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