Last night before falling into a lovely deep sleep my brain brought me a memory of my grandfather. I made a self note to blog about it today.
First let me say that this isn't one of those, "my grandpa was my best friend and then he died and I think about him every day" memories. My grandfather is very much alive and well living in Iowa. We weren't best friend's but I was definitely his favorite due to my extreme precociousness as a child - and adult for that matter.
Last Christmas we were at Grandma and Grandpa's house whom I refer to as G&G. Mr. M had come along on this trip and it was our first Christmas together with my family. Somehow my gramps got on the topic of me as a child. Why is it that grandparents feel it is there duty to tell all your friends and significant others about your childhood?
Grandpa was remember funny things I did and telling all the standard stories that I've heard before. Until Mr. M said, was she always this stubborn?
Grandpa said, "she's tough and smart on the outside but really she gets her feelings hurt very easily and deeply."
I was shocked! How did my stoic German grandfather know this about me?!
So naturally I asked him, "How did you know that."
He laughed and sad, "well it's true isn't it?"
Yes, it is true. I just never realized grandpa paid that much attention to all us grandkids and our mish mash of idiosyncrasies. I felt understood and yet exposed all at once.