Grandma at 20

I am not ashamed. I'll tell you straight up.
I'm a grandma.

I recently went on a trip to Indiana with my dance team and was reminded of this lovely little trait of mine. My friends made fun of me the entire time and I received a new nick-name. Grand-ma.
I have been excited to be a grandma for a long long time. I'm excited to bake cookies all day long, and travel the world with my cute, old wrinkly husband. And have a huge dress-up box that my sweet grandchildren will love. I'm keeping all my dresses. And I'm going to spoil them silly. What does that even really mean? Spoil them until they're silly? I hope my grandchildren are silly. Oh, and I'm going to go on walks with my husband, hold his old hand and watch people play at the park. And watch old movies. And order out food. But I'll still cook a lot. And we'll have the missionaries over all the time.

I'll admit, florals are in right now. It's easier to find something I love. But somehow, even as I was in H&M, picking things that were clearly IN STYLE my friends still said I was a grandma.

Another story:
This weekend I was at my home, crocheting like I normally do during conference and my dad turns to me and asks, "Are you a grandma?"

MY DAD?

Oh well, I'm happy. And will be even more so when I can do this...