Andy3 years along“Say grandpa, grand pa,” my dad tried to coax my daughter as he jiggled her chubby legs as she sat contentedly in my lap. “She’s not going to say grandpa before she says poppy,” Sam chimes in, trying to garner the attention away from Dad. It's the battle of the grandfathers that had been raging on ever since my daughter, London, had spoken her first word last week. Both men were wanting to be crowned the favourite with their first grandchild. I hadn't even made the cut for her limited vocabulary, which so far consisted of Mum, ball and woof, referring to our puppy, Peanut. I wasn't hurt that our dog or the toy she loves to roll to him, ranked higher than I did in her tiny world. Peanut is her best friend, they love playing together. I knew I'd make the list eventually. When London was born a year ago it changed me in ways I never expected. The relationship with my own father had long healed but I had a newfound respect for him, as a parent. The love I felt fo
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