As a grandmother, I have been so very blessed. I have had the great pleasure and privilege of spending a lot of time with my grandchildren throughout their lives. Since my girls worked in one capacity or another, I transported the kids to sitters, school, etc.
When the kids were little, and with so many grandparents and great grandparents in their lives, they found it hard to figure out which name goes with which grandparent. And when the last names are long, it’s even harder. So they tried to figure out ways to distinguish one grandparent from another.
It’s funny, the things kids notice. Before long, I became known to my grandchildren as “Grandma Fingernail”, because my nails were always long and painted. Well, you can imagine my surprise when I heard that. It was so comical to me, and of course, it became quite the joke with my daughters and their husbands. The other grandparents might be Grandma in Denver, Papa in Denver, Grandma-Papa, Grandma Foxy, Papa Scruffy (Foxy and Scruffy are the dogs), or some such thing, but I was “Grandma Fingernail”. And it turns out, I kind of liked it.
My nails were a source of interest to my grandchildren…my granddaughter especially, but even the boys. They had to feel them, because of course they are long, unlike their own. They looked at them to see what color or design I might have on them this time, because I like to put flower stickers, or other design stickers on them. But it would be my granddaughter who would come up with the most interesting thing to say about my nails. She would check them carefully every time I saw her, and if they were in need of being painted, she would inform me. She would say, “Grandma, your fingernails are a meth…you better fixth them.” Of course, the translation is, “Grandma your fingernails are a mess…you better fix them.” That never failed to get a laugh, and then I would usually paint my nails…and hers.