'Look! Look! Look!' she points excitedly at everything. A shopping trip is an adventure when you're one.

 

'Cheese!' One hand is waving the slice gifted to her at the deli counter; the other is thumping her chest in a clear sign of ownership. Even when you're so cute that people give you food, you can't be sure that even your nearest and dearest won't claim their share.

 

‘Yes, Brookie's cheese. Aren't you a lucky girl? What else do we need to get from the shops?' The last question is obviously rhetorical, the inane chat of an adult who is out with a small human. A small human who likes to talk but isn't too concerned about the quality of the conversation. Well, except when she is, of course.

 

It sets her off; repeating the carefully memorised list.

 

‘Milk. Cheese. Dog. Cat. Dinosaur.' Each word is accompanied with a firm nod of the head. She knows exactly what is going on and wants to ensure I'm fully across what is going on.
Four of these things are useful – actually on the list – one of them is not. Look. If you're going to go shopping with a toddler you might as well try and use it to your advantage. Especially when that toddler is going to do her very best to take advantage of you.
‘That's right. Milk. Dog food and cat food. We've already got cheese. I don't think dinosaurs were on the list though.'

 

She grins and goes back to her cheese, muttering under her breath about dinosaurs. It's nice when adults cooperate with the finer points, but she's not too sure I've fully understood the mission.

 

An older lady walks past.

 

Brookie looks up. This is even better. Cheese will wait but people willing to interact aren't always there.

 

‘Hello!' The greeting is accompanied by an enthusiastic wave.

 

The lady doesn't disappoint.

 

‘Why, hello! Look how good you're being,' she says, returning the greeting with joy. Turning and looking at me, her voice softens.
I know what's coming.

 

‘Treasure every moment, dear. They grow up so quickly.'

 

I was expecting the comment. It happens all the time and for good reason. Blink and they're suddenly a whole lot bigger. Already

 

I'm wondering what happened to my tiny baby. I smile back.

 

‘Yes, yes they do,' I said, ‘She's so much fun at the moment.'

 

The lady isn't looking at me. Her gaze has gone back to the child who is now staring with wide eyes and a solemn expression. It's almost like she's waiting for something.

 

‘And you're being such a good girl for Mummy,' the lady said her voice full of encouragement both for us.

 

I stifle a sigh.

 

‘Grammie.' Loud. Clear. Definitely.

 

And there it is. Brookie's response. Right on cue.

 

The lady looks at her, then looks at me.

 

‘Grammie.' Brookie's voice is firmer this time. And naturally it is the one time that the word is pronounced distinctly without much room for misinterpretation.

 

‘She's right,' I say with an apologetic grin, ‘I'm the grandma. They really do grow up so quicky.'

 

I wait patiently waiting for her to process the information. It happens every time. Turns out most people aren't very good at hiding their thoughts when you shock them enough.

 

To be fair, generally people aren't judgmental at this stage. Normally they're just trying to put all the puzzles into place and deciding they just don't fit correctly.

 

‘Grandma?' she says staring at me.

 

She's too polite to ask the next question. I answer anyway.

 

‘Yep. Grandma. I'm forty-one. I had my first daughter three months after I turned nineteen. Week twelve, first semester second year uni if we're going to be precise. My youngest daughter took it to a whole new level and her first daughter at almost sixteen and a half in her final term of year eleven.'

 

It's my standard script. Perfected now. Words carefully chosen. I don't care that people ask. When you think of a grandparent, I'm not at all what you expect. But I take every single of these opportunities to make it clear I'm proud of my children. And I'm proud of what I've achieved too.

 

‘Well, you look way too young to be a nanna,' she says and laughs. Still a little incredulous.

 

I knew she was one of the good ones. I have a whole different script perfected for anyone who dares to judge or pity my daughter. Or my granddaughter for that matter.

 

‘I get this a lot.' I smile back.

 

‘My grandchildren live in Queensland. You are lucky to get yours so close.'

 

‘I am. I really, really am. Wednesday nights are a Grammie-Brookie nights. My daughter is at uni and my son-in-law is at work so we get to go on adventures.'

 

‘Cheese.' Someone has decided there has been enough talk that isn't directed at her and joins back in the conversation.

 

‘And we eat cheese,' I said.

 

We both smile. At the child. At each other. At a universe that for a few moments is in perfect harmony when everything is reduced to just us just now.

 

‘You be a good girl for your nanna.'

 

‘Grammie.'

 

Her timing is perfection. Again. Miss One-Going-On-Eleven has very definite views when it comes to naming things.

 

‘Grammie. You be a good girl for your Grammie.' She laughs as she looks at me. ‘Good luck!'

 

‘Thanks,' I say, ‘Some days I need it!'

 

With one final look that is a mixture of softness and surprise she goes back to her shopping.

 

‘What's next, my darling?' I say moving the trolley further down the aisle in an effort to refocus on the task.

 

‘Milk. Dog. Cat. Dinosaur.' Nothing says determined like a toddler who knows her own mind and is also open to any signs of weakness. Fortunately, the chances of actually seeing a dinosaur slim. Slim, but not impossible and this child already knows her grandma is a bit of a pushover.



Teen mother turned lawyer, Catherine Geurds is a policy officer by day, a writer by night, and a chaotic mess 24/7. Catherine grew up on a sheep station, has an honours degree in history, and celebrated her fortieth year by becoming a grandma. She writes about friends, families, and flirtations