Someone's Granny

Are you someone's Granny?  Or Grandma, or Memaw, or Nanna?  Maybe you're a Geepa, Grandpa, or Papa.  Did your name come from a child's inability to pronounce the intended title correctly, or is it a name that has been used throughout the generations of your family?  I'm curious.  Did the other grandparents want that name?  How did you end up with it?  Did you flip a coin?  Draw straws?  Whatever name you've grown into over the years of grandparenting, doesn't it melt your insides into a  lovey-dovey goo whenever you hear it?  

To my grandson, I'm Granny.  I could hear him say it a million jillion times, and it would still have the same effect on me.  I love him, and he loves me.  It's that simple, and in a world where nothing else is simple, the privilege of being his Granny is priceless.

 
For as long as I can remember, my grandson has been fascinated by rocks.  This photo of beach rocks and glass from South Haven, Michigan is called, "Count the Hearts".  I used the dry-brush filter to give it a painted look.