The first time we picked up our grandson from the babysitter, I had an identity crisis at the door. Whom should I say is calling?
As I entered the foyer, I was literally at a loss not so much for words as for identification. I called out, "Miss Dawn? It's Sue Johnpeter." Wait! That doesn't work. She doesn't know who I am.
"It's Betsy Johnpeter's Mom!" I try again, but of course, our daughter is married and has a different last name. In my panic, all genealogical connections have evaporated. I see Dawn coming down the hall, smiling tentatively. I am sure she is thinking, "Great. Another confused old woman. That makes three this week."
At last, I figure out what should work: "I'm Zachary's Grandma," I offer, and Dawn smiles. A new connection, said out loud for the first time.