Who's the Cutest?

I called my grandparents the other day, and had a lively conversation about my nephew (who, by the way, I haven’t seen for ONE WHOLE MONTH). My dad drove Grandma and Poppops out to Bob & Sarah’s on Saturday, and apparently they had a really nice visit. Four generations, now, since Erik is the only son of an only son of an only son – Poppops is very happy that our strong German name will carry on, and Bob is relieved that the pressure is finally off HIM.

Anyway, when I called them yesterday, Grandma was all full of gab about her new great-grandchild and how cute he is. Obviously, I agreed with her wholeheartedly. The funny thing is, Grandma suffers from macular degeneration, which is some kind of disease involving her eyes. Well, that’s not funny, but what is funny is that even though supposedly she is now legally blind and can’t really see, SHE STILL DOES. Come to think of it, that’s not really funny, either – it’s kind of scary. But I’m dead serious about it. She was telling me about the cute outfit Erik had on (describing it, no less) and how the picture of Poppops, my dad, Bob and Erik will probably look so nice, they were posed so well together. She does that a lot. I can’t say for sure, but I think she has a magical eye or something that lets her see things she REALLY wants to see. Seriously. Because sometimes her vision deficiency is pretty obvious, and other times she can describe things down to the smallest detail – usually when they involve her great-grandchildren.

So, Grandma is going on and on about Erik, and then we were discussing my cousin Joanne’s upcoming new arrival that is due in April. And my cousin Rich and his wife are in the process of adopting a little boy. And Erik was preceded by my cousin Karyn’s little girl Naomi at the end of January. So, there have been a lot of babies around here lately. I commented on how cute all the babies are, and Grandma replied, “Yep, they sure are! I keep saying every baby is cuter than the last one. Nineteen great-grandchildren, and every one is cuter than the last one.” I replied with the obvious, “They sure are!” But then I started thinking.

Lexie is like number six in the great-grandchild lineup. So although she was cute as a baby, according to Grandma, there are now thirteen babies cuter than her. And before you try telling me that she didn’t mean it, let me assure you, she did. For clarification – I would like to begin by telling you that the very first great-grandchildren were my cousin Donna’s triplets (yes, triplets, three girls, who are like 14 now). Because the rest of our conversation went something like this:

“Yep, all my great-grandchildren keep getting cuter. That Erik is REALLY cute. And you know, the triplets weren’t really that cute when they were born.”

“GRAM!”

“Well, you know, it was probably because they were so little. They were cute, but not that cute.”

“They were cute.”

“Well, but NOW! My goodness! I saw them the other day and they are BEAUTIFUL! So tall! And so BEAUTIFUL!”

“Yeah, they’re getting older.”

“Lexie’s getting tall too.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe she is already ten, Gram.”

“Oh, believe it! They are all getting older. And taller! But the BABIES! They are so CUTE!”

“Yup, every one cuter than the last one, right, Gram?”

“Well, they just KEEP GETTING CUTER!”

So I guess basically my daughter was cuter than five of my cousin’s kids, which is still pretty good. Joanne’s baby will probably cause Gram’s Cute-O-Meter to go off kilter. Great-grandchild number twenty. That’s got to add some extra cute points too, being number twenty. But the poor triplets! They were cuter than no one. Cute, definitely, but not cute-er. No superlatives for them. At least now they are BEAUTIFUL. And that’s just how Gram says it too, BEAUTIFUL. All capital letters, you can tell by her voice.

I let Grandma gush a little more about how her neighbors were jealous of her nineteen great-grandchildren and were getting sick of hearing about them, and then the conversation ended. Because that’s how phone calls end with Gram. When she’s done, that’s it. You could be in mid-sentence, and all of a sudden you hear “Well, ok, then, bye bye!” and CLICK! She’s gone. Gotta love Gram.

I guess when you’re pushing 90 you can pretty much do and say whatever you want. And her and Poppops definitely do. But I love it. And I love them. Even if they only consider my daughter the sixth cutest baby, I let it slide.

Ok, then, bye bye!