My mother got a lot of attention -- particularly when she broke out the cookie dough for a baking session after we told her NJ often holds the TV remote to her ear like it's a phone and says "Grandma? Cookie?" She was more coy with my dad, but thankfully stopped calling him "Grandma" in favor of "Dad-dad," his now-official grandparenting moniker. She was still extremely shy with him, but she always made darn sure he was paying attention to her, no matter whether she was in her crib or high chair or on the sofa or running around the living room. He got lots of smiles and giggles, and when he carried her to the table for dinner their last night here, it looked like they were BFFs.
We (and by "we," I mean "The Wife") were worried that NJ wouldn't play nice with her grandparents when her parents went off to enjoy the song stylings of a little musical combo from Ireland. We got her up unusually early that morning, cut her nap short and took her to the zoo in the afternoon, hoping she'd be worn out by early evening and we could get her in bed early before heading off to the concert. It worked, at least as far as we know; my mom and dad insisted they didn't have to check on her once all night. Flying two babysitters in from more than 2,000 miles away to see a show for which we held tickets for as long as we've had the kid -- it all worked out in the end.
Daddy told me the raw cookie dough is better than the finished product. And, sorry ladies, but he's right!
Yesterday I took my parents to the airport VERY EARLY so they could fly back to Tejas. NJ asked about them when she woke up, later, and again both when The Wife picked her up from day care and when they arrived home in the evening. And they came up again this morning in our breakfast semi-conversation. She's got Grandma and Dad-dad on her mind, which is good. She's got great taste.
Your mom loves you more, NJ, but she's loved Bono longer.