Grandma the prophet

Last year my grandma turned 90, and to mark the occasion each of us grandkids took turns taking her out to eat. Gina and I took Grandma to a local diner she liked.

Grandma isn’t quite the conversationalist she once was. Her hearing’s shot, a source of constant frustration for her, and she tends to repeat some things. But we were having a nice time. She told us repeatedly how she always gets a doggy bag when she eats out, adding “I’m not ashamed to admit it” each time that she did. Then she turned her attention to Gina, who was six months pregnant at the time. After some small talk about the pregnancy, Grandma straightened up, and made a pronouncement with the authority of an Old Testament prophet. “You’re having a boy,” Grandma told Gina, pointing her finger at her. Then Grandma sank back into her seat as if the Spirit had passed. A few minutes later she told us how whenever she eats out she always asks for a doggy bag (and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it,) but Gina and I were struck by Grandma’s moment of clarity.

Shortly afterward we were at our OB getting the verdict via ultrasound, and when the nurse told Gina “congratulations, you’re having a boy,” Gina immediately wept tears of joy. I did too, and in the back of my head I thought, “Grandma was right.”

Happy birthday, Grandma. Maybe you can predict our next one, too.