Before our first granddaughter was born, my husband and I contemplated what we wanted her to call us. His choice was "Poppy", which is what he called his own grandfather. I called my grandmothers "Grandma", differentiated by their first names, Grandma Manya and Grandma Marian. But the name "Grandma" made me feel old, so I decided that Molly would call me "Grammy". We would be Grammy and Poppy.
However, as has proved true over the years, Molly had her own idea. Somehow Grammy and Poppy became Abby and Bob.
To me, it sounds like a comedy team. In some ways, being a grandparent is a little like being part of a comedy act. We often work together to make our granddaughters laugh and smile. Bah-da-da-bum.
The first time I was really aware of it was a day when my husband and I were at the playground with Molly. She was probably about one and a half years old then. My husband had gone to the car to get the sand toys and Molly called to him.
She said, "Bob! Bob!"
Another grandma, who was standing near to me, gave me a funny look, as if to say, "You let your little granddaughter call her grandfather by his first name?"
So I said to her, "Oh, his name isn't actually Bob."
Which made absolutely no sense.
Over the years, Molly has begun calling my husband Poppy, except when she is referring to both of us. Then we still are AbbyBob. The day we babysit each week is AbbyBob Day. And I had to laugh when we took her to her swimming lesson and she pointed us out to the teacher saying, "There's AbbyBob." I don't think the swim teacher had any idea what Molly was talking about.
But I'm still Abby. I kind of like it. It's unique. I don't know if it will last, though. Our giggly little Hannah is fifteen months old now, and may have her own name ideas. Whatever it is, I hope the comedy act continues.