Move Over Kevin Dowd

Maureen Dowd, celebrated columnist for The New York Times, each year lets her more conservative brother Kevin provide an annual letter from “the right — but not always correct — side.”

Pretty impressive I might add in light of the way so many family and friends drift apart (or worse) in these nasty partisan times.

In that spirit, I am opening the floor to someone with whom I never disagree (unless his parents instruct me otherwise).

That is, my grandson, Remy, who turned two years old in December and is already way smarter than his grandpa.

He now provides his own annual letter from “the toddler— and often saying “no” — side.”

Hi there! Remy here. Yes, I can write and type. Precocious never looked so good.

All in all, 2025 was a good year for me, not that I have many years for comparison. For one thing, I learned to walk. I hear “just put one foot in front of the other” and “one step at a time.” Easy for you to say! My strategy is to just get rolling and then let momentum take me along. Kinda scary for observers but it is a free fall black slopes slalom run for me every day. Channeling my inner Buzz Lightyear, by “falling with style” as much as walking.

I also became quite fluent in the English language. Being understood by all you adults has been very positive in the wish fulfillment department and I am all about wish fulfillment. I am particularly fond of the word “no,” which means do it my way or suffer the consequences. Works much better than the sign language I was taught as an infant, although whenever I felt the urge in those rare instances of miscommunication, an occasional rebel yell was pretty effective and could only be ignored at one’s peril.

This year I spent some fun times with my grandparents. I am not sure why they are here so much but I think we may be providing them day care for adults.

What’s with the names anyway?! Why can’t grandma be “grandma” and grandpa be “grandpa.” I do not want to be the one to break it to them, but an alternative grandparent name will not make them seem younger to me - - I think the sixth grader around the block is an old timer. I suspect they may be on the lam and part of the witness protection program.

Grandma goes by “Birdie” based on a childhood nickname. Curiously, Birdie is a common name for grandmas in southern states so I guess my Birdie has gone Dixie Chick on me.

Grandpa honors my dad’s grandpa known as “Pop” so that he is effectively Pop 2.0. He leans into his original gangster rapper persona and goes with “Two-Pop” aka “Tu-Pop.”

You would think dad could have shut this down with a heavy dose of sarcastic eye-rolling, but mom was on board so he is now “Toopy.”

I have to admit, I am all in on Birdie. She’s the best. But I am not sure exactly what Toopy’s function is around here. He does play the role of Birdie’s sherpa but I assume that his employment is based solely on some form of charity by Birdie.

One complaint. Why are Toopy and my dad always stealing my Legos and blocks so that they can play with them? I admit that they do show some promise in this art form. But enough - - get your own toys!

This year I discovered the joy of heading out to the park. I can run and scream all that I like without anyone shushing me. As with many children, I have not let go of the notion that I am destined for the NBA or Major League Baseball. My athletic greatness is quite obvious to anyone paying attention to my impressive exploits on the slide.

Sadly though, I have recently taken a closer look at my genetic lineage and may need to think this through. Just take a peek at Dad and Toopy. Enough said. Maybe I should focus on my schoolwork.

The highlight of the year happened in October.

I have something of a special relationship with food. I eat it. I throw it. I hide it to give to my dog. One never knows what I might do with it.

My millennial parents have me eating healthy food all the time - - vegetables, fruit, legumes. What am I in training?!

Then one day in October they dressed me up in an outfit even more nonsensical than my usual sartorial offerings.

Suddenly, my world changed.

We walked around the neighborhood, said a strange incantation (“trick or treat!”), and total strangers handed us the elixir of the gods. Why didn’t anyone tell me there was food like this?! They have been feeding me broccoli when I could have been eating a truly delicious vegetable called “Reeses!!”

I admit, I can be a bit of an attention hog, but hey, when you’re this cute you might as well flaunt it.

Rumor has it that I have a new brother or sister on the way. I am quite confident that he or she will not change my world even in the slightest and cannot imagine how a new sibling could interfere with my monopoly on attention.

Besides, I have it on good authority from some of my day care mates that if I do not like the new brother or sister, I can just have my parents send him or her back.

In conclusion, I am told that adults have a quaint notion of making resolutions for the new year. I am not sure how I can resolve to be better when I am solely fueled by Id and am already no doubt quite perfect (just ask my mom).

Well, just to show my maturity, I may give it a whirl. I could try to have less tantrums, to be good to my new sibling, to not cause complete chaos when traveling, to be patient when waiting for my snacks … Naaaaaaah!

Way too much fun being a toddler!!!

But Happy New Year to you all!

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