We all adore our grandchildren and each feel ours are the smartest, the kindest, the most beautiful, the best…and they are. That’s our job as grandmothers…to give them everything we wish we would have been smart enough, and wealthy enough, to give our own children. Grandchildren are our gifts from God…our reward for accepting the daunting task of parenting and surviving.

My grandchildren are, of course, the best. My 10 year old is smart and beautiful and athletic. My 6 year old is my loving, tender, deep thinker. I’m spending a few days with them this week and we are all thrilled.

We are having our annual Easter dinner at my son-in-law’s parents even as I write this. We hunted for Easter eggs and exchanged baskets and took lots of pictures. Then my little one, my thinker, my old soul told me she had something for me. She had made me this card. It was everything I could do not to cry. She misses her Papa. And…she understands me like few adults do.

Yes, my grandchildren are the best.