A whole week since I last blogged.
I am lazy
I am lazy
I am so very lazy!
Mea maxima culpa
(For the Catholics among you.)
However, while at work yesterday I had an excellent idea for a new story for Amy, my first granddaughter. And, in due course, for her sister, Katie, now six weeks old. (My Amy is almost a palindrome. And she is at the stage where everything is "Mine".)
Readers will know I wrote one for her third birthday. It ran to 6,000 words. My darling Mrs ex-Wife, though very complimentary, observed that perhaps it was more suitable for a six or seven year-old.
She observed this several times.
I finally got the message.
So yesterday this idea popped into my head.
Funny how ideas *POP*. I wasn't even thinking consciously about Amy or stories. Perhaps Mrs ex-Wife's observations had been rankling in the nether regions. Though I do agree with her. The first story is too much for a three year old. (Mind you John Stuart Mills was speaking in Greek and Latin by that age and Mozart had written several operas, including Jesus Christ, Super Star and every other work by Andrew Lloyd Webber.)
Last night, I discussed the idea with the Mummy of Amy and Katie, i.e. my daughter Emily. (Good grief, my baby is now a MUMMY. Do other grandparents find this strange? I know I have lived with the reality of the situation for a few years now but every so often it thwacks me.)
Mummy Emily has been told the idea. She loves it. She loves me. So no choice. And because the nature of contemporary story telling for children is repetition, (is this necessary?), I am hoping she will be able to contribute. I am sure she will.
I can see the illustrations already. It is a strange feeling. On the one hand, reassuring, on the other, OMG, I have to buckle down and do them and will they be as good as I imagine them. Never. But maybe better. Or worse. Or different. OMG.
Do other grandparents find the idea of their babies becoming parents wonderful but strangely disturbing, or is it just me? Do let me know.