2 thoughts on “Gay Dads Become Joyous Grandpas”

  1. This wasn’t anywhere near my reaction the first time I became a “Poppy”, but then I was only 38 y.o. when my oldest adoptive daughter called to give me the news (she at 19 y.o.). I recall that there was shock, denial, anger, self-recrimination, pleading that this couldn’t be happening to me, even an accusation that she only said she was pregnant to give me a coronary and be rid of me once and for all. I then jumped in the car and drove the 189 miles to her apartment, gave her kisses and lots of bear hugs, and spent the next two days shopping for my first grandchild. Mikey was a spoiled brat before he was born, grew up to be my only (so far) Gay grandchild (three of the 5 are too young for any sexuality), and insists on calling me “Grama”… that’s what I get for being a nosey, over-indulgent, “eccentric” (read: “nuts”) drag queen. In spite of my initial histrionics, I LOVE MY GRAMPA JOB!!! And now that my two “heathens in hair-ribbons” have heathens of their own, I fully realize and appreciate the wisdom of my Russian ancestors: “revenge is a dish best served cold.” BWA-HA-haaaa-hahahahahaha!

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