Avoid me if you can.

If you see me coming, run.

Stay away from me.

I'm boring.

More than usual, I mean.

I could break out photos without warning.

I'm a new grandfather.

A first-timer.

She's a girl.

Thanks for asking.

Oh, you didn't?

Have I shown you the photos on my iPhone?

Look, here's one of me holding her on the couch.

Here's one of me holding her on the other end of the couch.

Here's one of me holding her in the middle of the couch (that's her mother in the background, waiting for a turn).

This kid has been photographed more than a Kate — Middleton, Upton, Moss, Gosselin, Winslett.

More than Jennifer Lawrence on the red carpet.

Avoid me at any cost. Here are some excuses you can use in case I pin you to a wall somewhere:

Excuse me, my cat is on fire.

I'm late for my AA meeting.

I've got a raging case of flu and I'm highly contagious.

I'm an alien and my spaceship is leaving.

Sorry, but I can't miss Downton Abbey.

Or you could take a more direct route:

Please, stop, you're boring me.

My advice: If you see me coming, walk the other way.

Or run.

If I corner you, lower your shoulder and do your best imitation of the LAPD breaking down a door.

I'll show you photos and tell you highly amusing stories about how she sucked on a binky.

I'll use words like "binky."

I'll recount the time she smiled.


Hey, wake up! This is good stuff.

You know how every grandparent thinks his grandkid is the cutest in the world? How could they possibly know this? There are millions of kids out there. Somewhere there's got to be a cuter kid.

There isn't.

She's in first place, although it's amazing how many grandparents make the same claim, so it might be open for debate.

She gets more hugs and squeezes than The Bachelor.

New grandparents are people to avoid. Trust me on this.

Avoid them at a party like you'd avoid ultramarathoners and triathletes, who tend to want to tell you how many miles they ran that day and their training plans for the next day and the day after that.

Avoid them the way you'd avoid an Adam Sandler movie. And multilevel-marketing people.

And people who talk about "portfolios."

Avoid them the same way you dodge golfers who give you a stroke-by-stroke analysis of their game that day – … Then I came to 8, where I hit a soft wedge to the pin. 

Given a choice between spending the evening with me or the Geek Squad at Best Buy, choose the Geek Squad.

Our newspaper staff is fortunate that I work at home, where the only one to whom I can show my photos is the dog.

And the mailman if I can catch him.

Did I mention she's 5 weeks old?

She can already read and fly a 747 and do the Times crossword puzzle.

Oh, time for more photos!

Years ago, you needed a slide projector or a photo album to show your photos and you rarely had one of those handy; now, lucky you, I can open my iPhone in about four-tenths of a second and we can look at thousands of photos, although they'll all pretty much look like the same shot to you.

Supposedly, my phone has so many of those whatchamacallits – gigs? – that I could never use up all the space.

I'm getting close.

I've got the snapshot version of the Library of Congress in my phone.

Stop by and I'll show you — Myla, the first of the next generation of our family.

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