Grandpa Jones

Summer and I have had our first major conflict about how to raise our child. Summer's family tends to refer to grandparents by their first name: "Grandma Carren" or "Grandpa Buddy." I grew up calling mine "Grandpa Jones" and "Grandma Manternach." I didn't even know my grandparents' first names until I was five. This decision will obviously shape the way Elliott interacts with grown-ups, and ultimately could determine the entire trajectory of his life. Do we set him up respectfully treating adults with a certain degree of deference, paving the way for a lifetime of sweater vests, chess club, and safe, responsible decision-making? Or do we, like hippies, suggest to him that adults are primarily friends, signaling to him that they are equals, inviting him to test boundaries and trust in his own judgment, which can only result in a future full of adventure, excitement, and risk? Perhaps we can split the difference, with last names for my parents and first for Summer's, which will either help promote balance and moderation, or hinder his mental development by assaulting him with such chaos of naming conventions.

As you can see, it's tough being a parent. From the looks of things, though, it's great being a grandparent. Here are some photos from Grandpa and Grandma Jones's (not so) recent visit.

Elliott and Grandpa having a calm and rational conversation.


Most people visit Kerry Park for the stunning view of Seattle and Puget sound. Elliott is primarily interested in Grandpa's finger.


This isn't strictly a grandparent picture, but it was taken during their visit, so I think it counts. Elliott wasn't as enthusiastic about his first s'more as I had hoped he would be, but he'll come around.


All tuckered out.