My daughter Emma and granddaughter Robin visited us at the farm for the first time in several years. Emma said that before she came, she was reading a book called “Going To Grandpa’s To See The Stars.”

And then it happened.

(above, Robin putting on her “monster face” for the portrait I was taking of her.)

We went out in a nearly full moon to look for the stars, and Robin had an app that pointed up to the sky and found Jupiter and some other celebrities.

We were driving around all morning; Emma forgot to bring a booster safety seat – Robin is six-so Maria and I scrambled to find one; then we stopped for lunch and got to the farm late afternoon.

Robin was not recognizable to me in many ways since the last time I saw her and spent time with her. She has mushroomed into a remarkable young woman of great intelligence, confidence, personality, and presence and ability to articulate what she feels and wants.

There is little or no shyness or hesitation in her, at age 6 she knows what she wants and can speak powerfully for herself.

It was as if I was meeting her for the first time. Emma asked me if she was just like Robin when she was a child, and I said no, she was a wonderful child to have, but I don’t know anyone who is like Robin. She nodded. Robin is a nation all of her own.

I  was amazed, delighted, and almost awed at how bright, articulate, and grounded she was. She has an explosive personality, the vocabulary of a 40-year-old, and a wicked and penetrating sense of humor.

She is watching me closely, trying to figure me out, and every now and then, she just winks at me and tells me a joke: “I’ve got a million of ’em,” she told me.

We had a contest to see who could make the other laugh the fastest. I lost every time.

(Robin, manipulates the controls on her new robot.)

I got her a robot, and we fumbled with it for a while, and she went online and looked at the machine and had it dancing in school. She made a cardboard cat robot in her summer camp with movement sensors.

The pandemic and our lives took a toll on my connection with Robin; we didn’t know one another. I asked her if she wanted a hug, and she said no, and I understood.

Being a grandfather was never as natural to me as it is to others. I’ve struggled with it. Robin and Emma’s visit has given me a lot to think about, and there are two days to go (one and a half, actually).

We have to get to know each other again; I think we got off to a good start. It will take some time and work.

I had a pile of books ready for her (she loves the robot) that I abandoned reading; they were boring and beneath her,  far beneath her reading level and imagination.

They felt almost patronizing.

Tomorrow, I’m taking her to the local bookstore to get some graphic novels for kids her age.

Before that, we’re going out for breakfast and apple picking in Vermont.

She did connect to the farm. Bedlam Farm has a warmth and some magic, she felt it right away.

She hand-fed the Imperious hens, brought treats to the donkeys, counted the snails in the fish tank, cuddled the cats, and ran around with the dogs. She got Bud so excited we had to put him in a crate for a couple of hours.

Emma, who adored my first Lab, Pearl, and brought her to Brooklyn after years of pleading, fell madly in love with Zinnia. I caught her whispering about the merits of living in Brooklyn in Zinnia’s ear.

No way, I said, this one is staying for good.

We had wood-fried pizza for dinner at the house and talked for an hour or so. It is lovely to spend time with Emma, who works very hard in a challenging environment and is wonderfully patient and loving to her daughter.

I admire Emma and am proud of her.

She has a good and happy marriage, a good and demanding job, and a wonderful and demanding child. It’s a lot.  She is a truly wonderful mother.

But all I really want is for Emma to be happy, and she is. So is Robin, she is happier by a mile than I ever was at her age.

She has little time to herself and she looks tired to me. I’m hoping she will find some relaxation here on the farm and have more time to herself as Robin gets older.

I told Maria Robin would never have to go through what we went through to get healthy. She is loved, supported, and encouraged every day by her wife. Good for Emma.

We are learning about each other. “How old were you on your last birthday?” Robin asked me at dinner. “Seventy-five years old,” I answered.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Wow,” she said, “that’s more snails than I counted in the fish tank.” (We actually don’t have 75 snails in our fish tank, but I didn’t want to correct her.)

This is an important weekend, and I’ll be sorting it out for a while. Maria was, as expected, wonderful with Robin; she knows just how to speak to kids and make them feel at ease.

They connected right away.

Emma was amazed she had her daughter feeding donkeys and chickens in minutes.

I wasn’t surprised at all. Bedlam Farm is a charmed place in some ways.

We’re getting up early to start the day tomorrow – Emma and Robin are staying in an Airbnb in town tonight; our farmhouse is too small for both of them.

I am tired as I remember being, Robin is a significant energy source, and I often felt like Methuselah. I’ll be ready in the morning.