April 25, 2012

Dear Babies,

There are nannies who show up on time.

“I’m in the caw, on the way to the mawl, your farthuh needs dungarees…”

When they come in, there’s no chit-chat…

“Maria cawled, she’s so upset, they took away her SoapNet up in Bawston…I gotta watch Dancin‘ tonight, that Roshon, he’s too loose, Gladys isn’t loose enough…”

Or non-stop talk about food…

(Unloading fifteen Uncle Giuseppe’s bags onto he kitchen island): “You can have chicken cutlets, or chicken parm, you can make hero! Mike can have meatbawls…”

They keep schedules.

“Ooooh, okay, Baby, you want me to read you one more? Chicka Chicka Boom Boom?” “MA! She’s exhausted! She’s trippin’ all over herself! She’s gotta go to bed!” “Aw, awl right, let me find her a toy…”

But, we have our Nanny. And we love her so much. She drives me crazy sometimes, sure, as people so close to you sometimes do. (There will come a day, Baby Girl, when you think I, this all-knowing 24-7 tap-dancing concierge, know nothing and that you are the one who knows everything. Just wait.)

I may be obsessed with you guys, but she is obsessed with you. My heart at least get moments of reprieve when you unplug the television and laugh mockingly while pointing your finger back at my face, no, no, no!

Being a grandma must really be the best. All the fun. All the spoiling. All the time.

I saw a pillow that says “What happens at Nana’s stays at Nana’s,” like Vegas. We might have to get that for her.



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