As I reimmerse myself in the world of newborns (seven weeks and counting) after three decades off, I’m constantly amazed by the cool new inventions that make baby care so much easier the second time around. How did we boomer parents survive without resealable diaper tabs? Velcro swaddler blankets? Strollers with cup holders?
We were sitting around the dinner table on a warm Topanga evening looking very much like the family of cops on TV’s Blue Bloods, digging into the best Irish stew ever served in America, when suddenly Nicole, still chewing, said, “Guess what? I’m pregnant.”
Babies are a gift, no matter whom they belong to, and as we age past the point of expecting any more of our own, we take our excitement over them wherever we can get it.
In the 30 years I've talked with grandparents, there has been one common theme: "I've raised children myself. I don't need to be told how to be a good grandparent!"
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