But she is delusional.
She contradicts me when I say Number Two is surly.
"He is not," says she.
"Is too," says I.
"He's always smiling when he's around me." She's positively preening.
"So I'm a bad mother, then. Because he's surly to me."
She shrugs. "I guess so." The easy acquiescence must be her attempt at levity.
I fall for the bait, choking back a snort that emerges snort-ish anyway. "I've been around both of you all day, and he was not smiling the whole time. I've got the pictures to prove it."
"No, you don't."
Oh, don't I?
Still, nobody's denying he has his moments.
You've got a cute grandkid, mom. I'll give you that.