I’m trying to figure out the grandfather thing, an important and challenging new experience for me.

I would like to be thoughtful about it and now be swept up in the “cute” and marketing storm that can surround the experience. Today, we went to a chain baby story in Vermont to buy some clothes for Robin, who we are visiting towards the middle of next  week, just after Christmas.

It was my first visit to a chain baby clothing store. I didn’t much care for it.

My daughter Emma has graciously given us the gift of two days and nights in a nearby apartment, we can visit Robin and Emma and Jay and also wander around New York City a bit. A very thoughtful gift, visiting the city is expensive and there is no extra room in their apartment.

Maria and I were a bit overwhelmed at all the clothing choices, we decided to buy clothing for nine month old babies, even though Robin is just half that age.  Babies outgrow their clothing so quickly we thought we’d  plan ahead.

I’m also bring two more rattle toys that make all kinds of noises and have all kinds of buttons to push. She will have fun, she loves the two rattles I brought, even though they are driving Emma and Jay crazy.

I see at the store that grandparenting has drawn corporate marketers in large numbers. There were all kinds of way-too-cute grandparent T-shirts and pajamas with slogans like “grandpa’s little angel” and “the world’s cutest granddaughter.” Yuk, they made me slightly nauseous.

And Emma, like me, is not into “cute.” She would burn any T-shirt like that.

The store clerk also asked me if I cared to register for “Grandparents” Day, which comes once every week and offers coffee and a discount. No thanks, I said, I have no need of a grandparents day. I hate to be a curmudgeon, and there was no point in giving the teenage cashier trouble.

But I don’t want to be so closely labeled or identified as “grandpa,” I’d rather be know for who and what I am. That is not my name.

And I don’t need to give Robin those cute T-shirts or pajamas. She doesn’t need to carry my name around on her chest, and my name isn’t “grandpa” in any case. She will call me what she chooses to call me, I hope is something original and personal.

I have learned the importance of boundaries in recent years, and they apply to grandparenting as well as so many other things. I do not tell Emma and Jay how to raise their daughter; I do not ever say anything to make them feel inadequate or insecure about their parenting; I stay away from the “cute” side of grandparenting, that is just another label to put on a child that has nothing to do with the real world, and I’m not going to any “grandpa” activities of any kind.

They are just another way to label people and most often, too often to make grandparenting about money and gifts.

In addition, I value my own life, and I respect Robin’s and Emma’s right to live theirs without undue involvement with me.  As someone who has never been called “cute” or identified in that way, I am happy not to put the tag on her. The store experience only reaffirmed that idea.

Spoiling grandchildren is a sacred part of the experience, I get that, but boundaries matter. They lead to healthy relationships. They are just as valuable, in my mind, for grandparenting as they are for anything else.