I have a granddaughter! Sweet Stella Jane came into the world Saturday night. She has a Faux Hawk! There is lots of black hair, cute little face, long fingers and legs. She is very beautiful.
This, of course, means I am a grandfather. I don't feel old enough to be a grandfather, but I am happy to have a new baby in the family.
Don't tell my mom, but this makes her a great grandmother, so she really cannot get away with telling people she is 39 any longer. She has forbidden me to tell my age for years, but the grand child will otherwise be hard to explain.
It's funny how your identity changes over the years. First, I was Pete and Bernice's boy. Especially living in small towns, you hear this: "you're Pete's boy aren't you?" right before he calls your father or mother and tells them what you'd done.
When I take coffee up to the hospital to see Joy Bird, they say "hey, you're Joy's husband, aren't you?" Then she introduces me around as "my husband".
Then, I had kids. I became Michelle's dad, Lindsey's dad, Claire's dad.
When I'm at church, it's "this is my sunday school teacher".
Now, I'll be known as Stella's grand dad.
Obviously, the people around me define me. I exist in terms of who I am to them.
A philosopher once said "I think, therefore I am". I think I would say "I relate, therefore I am".
When I am alone, I have an identity crisis. Who am I? Who do I belong to?
Maybe then I belong to the dog. Do dogs talk to each other while they are sniffing their privates?
"Hey, this is my guy."
"Cool. Can I sniff him?"
Our dog prefers the Little Woman to me, actually. So, I think he tells them "this is the guy that takes mommy away from me" or "this is the guy that makes me get off the bed and get in my crate when he quits reading".
But at least I have an identity.
I have to go. Someone just said "tell your dad dinner is ready".