I’ve got a secret.

Actually, I’ve had a secret for almost two months now, after a Christmas conversation that took place as I lay recuperating in my bed. But now I can talk about it.

I’m going to be a grandfather.

My son and his wife are expecting their first child. They came to the house this weekend for us to take pictures of them for their announcement. I did not know such a thing exists, but it was fun.

When Peggy got pregnant with Mike we picked up the phone and told people about it. Well, not immediately, but you know what I mean.

Things have changed. At least we won’t have the indignity of a big gender reveal, since Mike and Caitie do not want to know the gender. I think that is really cool. We did not want to know Mike’s gender in advance, either, but I was watching the ultrasound when it became apparent. That’s my boy…

We have been looking forward to grandparenting for quite some time now. When Mike waited until 26 to get married I joked that he had ruined our opportunity to be the youngest grandparents on the block. He’ll be almost 29 when the baby is born. At least Peggy will still look like the youngest grandparent on the block.

I have to admit, such news promotes reflection.

What kind of grandparent will I be? I’m not going to be strict — that defeats the whole purpose of being a grand — but will I have the opportunity to be involved in the daily life of my grandbaby? They don’t live in Baton Rouge, so are we going to have to be in Kenner (bruh) all the time to spend time with what will certainly be OUR baby?

I’m not too worried about it. I was a good Daddy because I had a good Daddy. I feel confident that it’s genetic. Peggy’s going to be absolutely ridiculous, too.

Do we really have to wait until August?