As a grandmother, I feel it is my job, my duty, to share all of the precious moments I get to experience with my grandson.

I mean, that is what grandparents do, right?

We brag.

We boast.

We embellish.

We show photos to anyone who will glance at them.

I can remember long before cell phones were invented. People would pull their wallet out of their back pocket or purse and open it up to reveal an extremely long strand of plastic coverings.

As the photos unfolded, the viewer would silently sigh, emit a plastic smile and await their fate.

Having to look at people they don’t know, people they do not care to know, simply to appease a grandparent’s love for their grandchild, well, it is something we all do.

We do it because we would hope for that same respect when showing off our own photographs.

Before cell phones, we would proudly display those out-of-focus, blurry pictures to anyone who would look at them.

Heck, even total strangers whom we probably never saw again have seen a picture or two of our grandchildren.

Some of those wallet photos even contained people with their heads cut off because apparently nobody knew how to aim a camera back then.

We carried around those photos we had taken at Sears with the ridiculous backgrounds. Remember those?

We folded up those large, square Polaroid photos that came straight out of the camera in order to accommodate the size of the plastic rectangles inside our wallet.

Why? Why did we do that?

Oh, yeah … because these are the people we love.

Our pride. Our joy.

And we are so very honored to be their grandparent.

No matter what.

Thankfully, cell phones have saved the day.

They allow us to zoom in or out; to intentionally, not accidentally, crop the photo; we can delete or retake the bad ones; enhance the people to make them look better than they actually are; practically anything we want to do, to make our pictures as beautiful and perfect as possible.

You never know who might see them someday.

It is what we do.

Today, we can just hand people our phone instead of that bulky wallet containing a dozen or so pictures.

Today, others can browse the hundreds, or thousands, of photos we have saved in our phone with merely a swipe of the screen.

Ahh, technology.

Yes, today, we can even have people watch a video of our grandchildren!

How fortunate is that? For us, not for them.

Yes, these people thought they had it bad before … having to shuffle through outdated photos of children out of focus whom they didn’t find to be that cute in the first place.

Now, they get to watch a 10-minute video of the child doing absolutely nothing except breathing.

Lucky, indeed.

In reality, though, we do hype up all of the little things our grandchildren do, making it seem as if our child’s child is unique. Rare. One-of-a-kind.

As grandparents, we act as if they are special and there is no one else like them in the entire universe.

And we are absolutely right.

And we are absolutely wrong.

Of the billions and trillions of people who came before us and who will come after us, we are wise enough to know that there is nothing truly “unique” about our grandchild or grandchildren.

They are simply special to us because of our love for them.

It is not as if they have accomplished something that hasn’t already been done a zillion times before by someone else’s grandchild.

Everyone has sung the alphabet and counted to 10.

And yet, when our offspring does it, our love for them makes us want to share it with whoever will listen.

The stories we tell about the cute things they say, the adorable things they do.

I get it.

I get it because I do it, myself.

Truth be told, pretty much no one finds our grandchildren to be special as we do.

Yet, I still enjoy sharing our little moments together with others, knowing full well they really don’t care one way or the other if my Sunday morning was spent eating breakfast with Layne.

But it is my job as his grandmother to boast, to brag, to embellish a little.

And I will not fail at my job.

And fortunately for me, I do not have to wait on the street or in a store to tell people about his latest moments.

I have the opportunity to tell anyone reading this little section of the paper all about him, at once.

So, here is my story. Layne is still 2. He will not be 3 until around Christmas.

His words are still indistinguishable, for the most part. But he knows what he is saying. It just doesn’t translate.

And yes, it breaks my heart when I can’t comprehend what he is saying to me.

But he is exceptionally smart. And he loves music — always has since the minute he was born.

Although he can’t really say too many words clearly, he sings. In tune, using the same syllables, at exactly the right moments.

I believe he is already gifted in the art of music. Of course, that is the grandmother in me perhaps embellishing just a little bit.

There is a popular song sung by Benson Boone entitled, “Beautiful Things.”

I love it. One day I played it from my phone onto the TV so I could listen to it louder. Obviously, Layne had heard this song before, as he went over and tried turning the television volume up.

He began singing and I began staring at a scene playing out before my eyes.

He knows that song. He sings that song.

It is absolutely one of the Top 3 greatest moments I have ever witnessed.

Ahh, if only I could show you the video I have saved on my phone.

But again, you would not be interested the way I am. For he is my pride, my joy, not yours.

I know that no one is going to send me an e-mail or text message asking for a copy of that video. No one will request my showing them the video should you run into me on the street.

But you know what? It’s OK.

It’s OK because I have learned that it doesn’t really matter in the end if others do not find our grandchildren as beautiful and unique as we do.

As grandparents, we act as if they are special and there is no one else like them in the entire universe.

And we are absolutely wrong.

And we are absolutely right.

(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times newspapers. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)