What's the point of blogging if I can't gush about the brilliance of the grandchildren?
I forgot to share an anecdote from Fort Lauderdale last weekend. We went to dinner at a highly rated (in our opinions highly OVERRATED) marina restaurant, and were seated on the covered patio just as a staggeringly heavy monsoon rain erupted, which made conversation nearly impossible and killed any chance of the marina view that was the point of the restaurant choice. Seriously, don't trust gushy reviews on Yelp - the food and service were mediocre. My son-in-law summed it up: "It's a sports bar with a really limited beer menu." The wine menu took up an entire page, and they sold oysters INDIVIDUALLY, for, like, $3 apiece, lovingly described on the menu like wines: "A briny overtone, with a sweet finish." It was laughable.
While we dealt with having four different servers and the screwed-up orders and delays that ensued, Miss D, seated next to me, observed: "There are eleven fans on the ceiling." I counted. Yes. 5 sets of two small fans with lights, one larger, familiar single fan. Eleven. The small paired fans were a fancy commercial style, not the kind she was used to, but that didn't throw off her count.
My son called to chat today, with another story: Supergirl is four. She's reading on her own quite a bit. One of their friends is in a grad program for speech pathology or something, and one of her studies was language skills. Supergirl was happy to be a guinea pig and answer questions for her study. They started with her age bracket, and she answered question after question, until they quit when she was answering questions for kids over 7 years old. She hadn't missed a single question, and they were both getting bored.
Oh, and while I've known for a few weeks, I think now I can make it official: there is a third amazing grandchild on the way. My son and daughter-in-law are expecting another source of annoying bragging rights for me, right around the first of the year. January baby will need soft warm blankets and stuff.