A month ago I became a grandfather. My son Michael and his wife Courtney had their first child, a small boy called Everett. I've been counting down the days until I could go and see him, but first had to survive a Florida hurricane (it was fine as things turned out: didn't even lose power) and then drive home across country and so on.
I spent time working as a rickshaw driver for a one-year-old with his own tiny rickshaw (found abandoned on the streets of Boston by Lee, Amanda's Cloud Club landlord, and painted up and repaired). And then I waved goodbye to Amanda and Ash as they went off for a short European tour.
I went to Toronto to attend the American Gods TV series first season wrap party, because I wanted to thank the cast and crew for the amazing job they had done and the hard hard work it had involved. I went to Los Angeles, where I did something cool and secret (you'll know in a year), and was interviewed for the Electronic Press Kit for American Gods. (It will be out in the spring. I'm really excited.)
And then, finally, I went to San Francisco to be a grandfather.
Everett is the sweetest baby. He looks like he was drawn by Crockett Johnson on a day that he was feeling particularly impish. He looks a little like Barnaby and a little like Mr O'Malley, Barnaby's fairy godfather. I spent a happy couple of days changing nappies and dandling him. Lots and lots of dandling.
I tried to explain what being a grandparent was like on Twitter. I said, "It is a very comfortable thing to wear. Like a brand-new favourite old coat." And it is. You don't need instructions, you just fit right in, and the love just grows and your heart grows with it, in the same sort of way it does when your children are born.
This is a photo I took of Michael and Everett. My son and his son. I am so proud of Courtney and Michael: such good parents. I feel like I must have done something very right, somewhere along the way.