For 10 months I have been on a relentless campaign against my own child to win the First Word War for my grandchild — the taste of victory is nearly on my lips.
It started when the wife, the Boy and his smarty-pants wife devised a plan to have “Grandpa” babysit Blossom for 8 hours a week — Monday and Tuesday mornings until the wife staggers home sometime in the PM after fighting with 7th graders for half a day.
It’s not true that I didn’t have a say in this plan. I could say one word — it better be “yes.”
Turns out that was the right answer for everyone. Most days I’m having more fun than anyone.
But “free” babysitting has its price. Mine is I wanted that baby to call my name — first.
That’s right. Fuck “mama.” Screw “daddy.” Her first word is going to be “grandpa.”
Years of teaching junior high and teaching the dog “agility” taught me that the best way to train a new brain is repetition — and cheap tricks.
For the cheapest of tricks, I turned to the TV. Al Bundy, whose show Married with Children, got renamed 20 years later to Modern Family, was my role model. He traded in Peg for a younger wife with pigment and a Rickey Ricardo accent. The show added some step children, and a gay couple for comic relief. But most importantly, Al Bundy went from father to “grandpa.”
Unlike me, he didn’t seem to spend much time with the grand babies. Al would just walk past, blow a quick raspberry and say “grandpa.” Brilliant.
I had my cheap trick, now just repeat after me.
(Raspberry)”Grandpa.”
At least 10 times an hour for 8-12 hours a week.
“It’s really terrible that you are trying to steal the first word from her Mama,” the wife said while we were out to dinner with the Boy, and the Mama in question.
“It’s OK, dad,” the Boy said. “If her first word is ‘grandpa’, you definitely put in the time.”
As usual, smarty-pants said nothing and kind of smiled. Hard to know what goes through her head, but she was definitely just letting this go. There’s only so many battles you can pick with the Savages.
They didn’t know the half of it. Sure at every opportunity in front of them, I do (raspberry) “Grandpa”. Sure, whenever there is a pause in the conversation, and the baby’s eyes fall on me, (raspberry) “Grandpa”. Sure, sometimes when it’s only me and the dog, (raspberry) “Grandpa” out of habit…
A secret weapon in the First Word War
… But when Blossom and I are alone; I have a theme song.
Blossom loves “And Bingo was his Nameo…”
When it plays on YouTube, I smother those sad little lyrics with some gems of my own.
“There was a Blossom had a grandpa, and Grandpa was his nameo.
Pbbhh, pbbhh, pbbhh, Grandpa…
Pbbhh, pbbhh, pbbhh, Grandpa…
Pbbhh, pbbhh, pbbhh, Grandpa
And Grandpa was his Nameo.”
A few days after that dinner, the Boy and smarty-pants sent this video…
That’s right. They will do anything to save a few thousands dollars a month. Including sabotaging their own chances in the First Word War.
(in case you couldn’t play the video for 25 seconds…) They call out “grandpa”, and get “raspberry” in response.
Don’t care that baby is only babbling. Don’t care that this is the same fart noise that Lewis Black made famous. Don’t care if this “evidence” would never hold up in a court of law.
It may not have a G sound, or a D or a P, but I’m calling this a winner. Blossom’s first word is “calling” her grandpa.
“Pbbhhh” for the win.
Brilliant 🤣🤣🤣 You’ve definitely won the war 👏👏👏
Thanks. It was a fairly long fight – but worth it.
Without the story, I would have suggested Gasex or some other remedy. But, yes, you earned that one.
Or the story is just a giant coverup for grandpa’s “real problem.”