My dad and his grand children (humour)

My dad was the definition of discipline. Sometimes all you need to be set straight is one firm look from him.

Yes, he was. Yes, he is alive.

‘Was’, because when he became a grandfather, something changed. Something akin to a factory reset.

My pops went from being the lion, whose footsteps (let alone his roar), sends chills down our spines, to a house cat, whenever his grandkids are concerned.

This observation, which seems almost universal has led me to propound a theory: Grandchildren are every grandparents’ MUMU button holder.

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