The all-important issue of what you as a grandparent are going to be called

Cal and me

The most common question I received before and after my grandson Calvin was born three weeks ago was what exactly the little guy would call me.

My answer was always the same: "I don't know, and I mostly don't care. He can call me whatever he wants."

Within reason, of course.

The early favorite seems to be the straightforward "Grandpa." To our kids, my dad was "Grandpa Tennant" and Terry's dad was "Grandpa Ross," so the title is already ingrained into our family culture.

But nothing is set in stone, especially since the little guy is all of 21 days old and hasn't quite yet mastered the art of speech.

The people who will have the greatest influence on how Cal refers to his grandparents are his mom and dad, Chloe and Michael. Whatever they call us is very likely what he will call us.

Terry has lobbied to be known as "Grammy." Which is great, but again, unless Cal hears it a lot at home, it's not going to stick.

In any case, the list of potential grandparent names is certainly varied. For men, beyond Grandpa, I've also heard Gramps, Grampy, Grandad, Grandaddy, Grandpap, Papa, Papaw, Poppy, Opa, and the hilariously 21st-century "Granddude."

For women, there's Grandma, Grammy, Grams, Nana, Ga-Ga, Memaw, Mimi, Nanny, Nonna, and another hysterically modern and perhaps tongue-in-cheek selection: "Insta-gram."

Often we take on whatever name our grandchild calls us when he or she is a baby and just learning to talk. So far, in Calvin's case, the only sound he has made when looking at me involves a raspberry and copious amounts of spit.

Somehow, though, "Grandpa Brzzzzzttttfoooo" doesn't have much of a ring to it.

When the time comes for grandchildren, fine. Right now? I'm good.

We have five children and zero grandchildren, and I'm absolutely OK with these numbers.

My wife, on the other hand, while not quite chomping at the bit for one of our kids to have offspring of their own, is probably a little more anxious than me for it to happen.

To clarify, I'm sure that if and when we get grandkids, it's going to be great. All of the grandparents I talk to tell me how wonderful it is.

And I believe them.

For the moment, though, I don't need to be anyone's Grandpa.

Or "Grampy," or "Gramps," or "Grandad," or "Grandpap," or even "Granddude," which is apparently gaining in popularity.

I have been "Dad" for many years, and it's still my favorite title. I'm going to stick with it as long as I can (which is presumably the rest of my life).

It has nothing to do with getting or feeling old. I'm nearly 55, which is still middle-aged but creeping inexorably toward senior citizenhood. I'm not fooling anyone anyway.

I just don't feel the same sort of life milestone momentum I used to feel in my 20s and 30s when I got married, bought a house, had kids, progressed in my career, etc.

These days, I'm somewhat more of a go-with-the-flow, take-it-as-it-comes-and-don't-rush-it kind of guy. Or at least much more than I used to be.

It really does feel like the best approach to life, and it only took me a half-century to learn it.

When grandchildren do enter our lives, we will fawn over them and spoil them in the finest Grandma/Grandpa tradition. We will give them things Mom and Dad don't. We will take them on trips and send them presents for no reason and attend every single one of their little league games and school concerts.

I have no doubt Terry and I will be A-1, top-of-the-line grandparents.

But not now. Not quite yet. There's simply no hurry.

For the moment, my focus is going to the gym five days a week so that, when those grandbabies do arrive, I will have the energy to play with them, wrestle with them, take them places, and generally keep up with them.

When it's my time, believe me, I will not be Rocking Chair Grandpa. I'll be Superhero Grandpa.

Or Granddude. I haven't decided on my title yet.