By Dan Miller, Today’s Family Editor

My wife and I had been hoping to become grandparents for many years.

Our parents became grandparents in their mid- to late 40s, and we always loved that they were young enough to run, play, babysit, spoil, chase, laugh, and generally do all the things grandparents are supposed to do. Fortunately, both of our fathers lived to be 80, which meant they not only knew our children as babies and kids, but also got to see them become adults.

That is a gift we never take for granted.

When we found out our eldest son and his wife were expecting, we were thrilled. Actually, “thrilled” may be too mild. We were beaming. The only downside was that we found out very early in the pregnancy, which meant the wait from Christmas to September moved at the speed of a school bus stuck behind a tractor.

But the wait was worth it. In September of 2025, the world got to meet Arlo Ellis Miller.

His middle name, Ellis, came from my great-grandfather. My daughter-in-law’s family also had a tradition of using middle names that began with the letter E, so Ellis turned out to be a perfect fit. I never knew my great-grandfather. My dad didn’t either. But I liked the idea of keeping his name alive into the future.

They say you die twice: once when your life ends, and once when your name is spoken for the last time. Ellis had a few quiet decades, but thanks to one little boy, he is back in action.

And Arlo? He was perfect.

I know every grandparent says that, and we are all supposed to nod politely and pretend their wrinkly little potato baby is the most beautiful child ever born. But in this case, I am obviously correct. His features looked like they had been carved out of porcelain, and his eyes were open on the day he arrived, as if he wanted to get a good look at the people who were about to become completely useless around him.

To say we are in love is an understatement.

My obsession with him is, admittedly, off the charts. The joy he has brought into my life is beyond anything I could have predicted. I have told people that he nourishes my soul, and I even put that line into a song I wrote for him. It may sound dramatic, but it is true. Some days, seeing his smile feels like someone opened a window in a room I didn’t realize had gotten so dark.

Watching him grow has been incredible. The first laughs. The crawling. The standing. The first cautious steps. The little looks that seem to say, “I know exactly how cute I am, and I plan to use this power irresponsibly.”

I was there every day for my own three children as they grew up. In my career, I only spent one night away from my family, and I am grateful for that. I watched the milestones then, too, and I know I loved them deeply.

But being a grandparent is different.

It is not just because I don’t have to rock him back to sleep at 3 a.m. after a long cry, although let’s not pretend that isn’t a nice feature of the grandparent package. It is not just because, when he gets fussy, I can hand him back to his parents and say something helpful like, “I think he wants you,” while slowly backing out of the room.

The difference is that I can experience him without carrying the same pressures I had as a young father.

When I became a dad at 24, I was still trying to figure out life, career, money, marriage, work stress and how to be a grown-up while technically still feeling like someone who should be asking an adult for help. I loved my children completely, but I also carried a lot of worry. My first job was stressful, our future was uncertain, and I am sure that affected my patience and my ability to fully take in every moment.

Now, life still has stress. Plenty of it. But it is different.

At 24, I was not thinking much about mortality. At this age, the clock is harder to ignore. Becoming a grandfather brings joy, but it also brings a quiet awareness that time is not unlimited. I hope to know Arlo for many, many years. I hope to watch him grow into the person he is going to become. But I also understand there will be parts of his life I may not get to see.

That reality makes every moment with him feel more precious.

Maybe that is why I have spent years quietly preparing for a future grandchild. My large collection of Lego bricks and sets, HO and O27 trains, and other toys are all waiting for him. I have visions of building cities, running trains, creating worlds and sharing the toys that have brought me joy for most of my life.

Of course, he may play with them for 10 minutes and then become fascinated by whatever technology children are obsessed with in five or 10 years. By then, kids may be wearing hologram helmets and asking their robot pets to do their homework. If that happens, I will still be there, sitting among my Lego buildings, trying not to take it personally.

But I hope he likes them. I hope we build things together. I hope he remembers me as someone who got down on the floor, made ridiculous noises, wore toys on his head, and gave up whatever dignity he had left just to make him laugh.

Grandparents Day has never quite caught on the way Mother’s Day and Father’s Day have. There are no massive card displays, no brunch reservations made six weeks in advance, no national panic over whether Grandpa wants socks or a meat thermometer.

But maybe the day deserves a little more attention. Because being a grandparent is one of life’s great second chances. Not to redo parenting, exactly, but to experience childhood again from a different seat. To love without quite as much fear. To play without quite as much pressure. To see your family move forward while also feeling the past standing beside you.

So, to every grandparent out there, Happy Grandparents Day.

I hope you are soaking it in. I hope you are making memories. I hope you are saying yes to one more story, one more hug, one more game, one more silly face.

And if there is a little person in your life who makes your heart feel younger and your knees feel older, you already know exactly what I mean.

Note: Out of respect for the privacy of Arlo and his parents, a generic photo was used for the online version of this article.