And speaking of faces (see yesterday's blog) grandchildren have a wonderful ability to love you unconditionally, but still keep you rooted in reality. Seven years ago, when my grandson was five, he came home from a morning spent at church "helping" Papa with some volunteer work and informed me that he had met a woman at church who looked like me, but he didn't remember her name.
While trying to think of anyone at church who looks like me, I asked him "How did she look like me?"
He replied "She has a face like yours."
"What do you mean, a face like mine?"
"You know, Nana,, crinkledy!"
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