Suddenly, I heard "Grandma!" "Grandma!" being yelled from the dining room. I, of course, did not respond. Because even though the elementary school crowd has been quick to point out that their grandmothers are MY age, I am, not in fact a grandma. When Zibbi informed me that her baby was calling to ME, I said, that I want to go by the elegant, "Gigi" as my grandmother term. In addition to Barbie play, Zibbi has been into playing mom/baby. So this morning, as she was getting her baby, Brie, set up at the table, she suddenly yelled into the kitchen, "Mom, what crave did you have?" I had to pause and figure out what she was inquiring. Had I been to a rave? How does she even know what a rave is? I'm not even completely sure I understand what it is. Then I realized she was asking what cravings I had had when I was pregnant with her. Dark Chocolate was my crave for her, Lemon Bars for Lotta, Falafel sandwiches with Benja and Mexican for Ellie. I don't know what this has to do with anything. Maybe it is just letting Zibbi know that she is important, we remember her even when she was a tiny peanut floating inside. Or maybe this is another boring story. As comedian Tig Notaro said on her podcast (Don't Ask Tig), "I have a hundred boring stories right now if you've got the time."
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