It’s often the case that grandparents get the names of their own grandchildren muddled up.
And you can understand and appreciate why when they’ve got 10 or more names to remember. It’s a mighty task.
I can recall my grandma doing it when I was younger. She’d refer to me by my siblings’ or cousins’ names long before she’d get to mine.
Unfortunately, however, the shoe’s on the other foot for Louie at the moment.
His and our biggest challenge at present is actually memorising the titles we’ve given each of his seven grandparents, two of which he’s seen over the past few weeks.
Yes, he really does have that many. The conventional four just wasn’t enough for him.
Collectively and affectionately, we refer to them as the Magnificent Seven.
But of course, they can’t all be called Gran and Grandad. That would be as confusing for us as it would him.
Sadly though, our alternative labelling system isn’t any less troubling.
In summary, he has two nannies, two grandads, a nanna, a granny and a pop-pops.
It’s easy to see where the mistakes arise. I think it would be more plain sailing if we simply gave them all numbers.
I’m not too sure they’d support that idea though.
On one occasion last year I nearly referred to my mum as grandad before my brain finally engaged.
Anyway, let’s see if I can get this right the first time.
So, Louie went up to Luton to see Nanna (Kerrie’s mum) for a few days while Granny (my mum) came down from Cumbria to visit us.
She’s not long moved up to the Lake District. She and Pop-Pops left Gosport at the start of this year to enjoy their retirement up north.
Don’t worry, I have already thanked them for making the ultimate sacrifice in going all that way just so Louie can have plenty of memorable holidays up there as he grows up.
He returned from Nanna’s with, among many other things, a lawnmower bubble machine and a plastic golf set.
Thus far, the bubble solution tends to end up all over the carpet before it has any chance of becoming bubbles.
And the golf clubs have been used more as swords than a tool to strike a ball.
Early indications suggest he may want to be an Olympic fencer when he’s older. Look out for him at the 2036 Games.
HE’S AN INSPIRATION
What an absolute inspiration and true sporting hero Billy Monger is.
If you’ve not heard his name before, he’s the 18-year-old Formula 4 racing driver who tragically lost both legs following an horrific accident last month.
The 17-year-old spent 90 minutes trapped in the wreckage before being freed.
After weeks in hospital, he has now returned home to begin his rehabilitation. Incredibly, he has already set his sights on racing again.
It’s remarkable to see the determination and fight he has to continue living his dreams, despite the life-changing injuries he has suffered.
On first hearing this story, Kerrie and I naturally turned our attention to Louie and questioned what activities we’d be worried about him partaking in as he gets older.
Kerrie admitted she wouldn’t feel comfortable with him racing, including stock cars. Apparently go karting is also out of the question. But, I think I have managed to strike a deal and get a green light for dodgems.
Louie’s future aspirations may well be limited to the funfair.