My parents were devastated to say goodbye to their grandson.
I made every effort to give them as much quality time with him as possible and ensured they never had intimate knowledge of what went on in his nappy. Dad bravely volunteered to change him one night – I think he was showing off to his sister who was visiting – I’m not sure why he didn’t just juggle five live chainsaws – ten minutes later he quavered, “Niamh! We need a change of clothes here!”
Perceiving the rising note of terror, I took over, which was just as well because not only had Finn executed a king kong crap, he waited until he was completely al-fresco before weeing all over the show. (His Penile PSI appears to increase on an exponential basis.)
Dad was so traumatized he required another glass of wine; he didn’t offer changing services again.
It was wonderful watching my parents get to know their grandson and Finn formed an attachment too – especially to his granddad. Every morning they went for a stroll to get Dad’s paper and Finn would get all excited when I brought him to the parents’ bedroom.