Wait, You want to be called yoda? The tale of becoming a Grandfather.

There are moments in life that mark a before and after. For me, becoming a father was one. And now, with the arrival of our first grandchild—Noah Archer Scott—I’ve entered another: becoming a grandfather.

The joy is hard to describe. It’s deep, quiet, electric all at once. Holding him, seeing his tiny face, and watching my daughter step into motherhood has stirred something in me I didn’t know was waiting to be awakened. There’s a new kind of love in this season—slower, more reflective, and full of wonder.

But let’s rewind for a moment. Because before Noah’s arrival, there was the great name debate.

My wife made it clear early on: “We’re not going to be Grandma and Grandpa.” Okay. Fair. But I hadn’t realized this was such a big decision! What started as light conversation soon turned into a full-blown family brainstorm. One particular night stands out—the Dairy Queen parking lot summit.

Picture this: my wife, my mom, and our daughters crammed in the car, ice cream in hand, on FaceTime with our pregnant daughter. Laughter, opinions, and a surprising amount of pressure filled the air. I wasn’t taking it too seriously until they turned to me.

“What do you want to be called?”

Wise Yoda

With a smirk, I blurted out, “Yoda.”

Cue the collective groan. “You want to be called what?!”

It started as a joke (mostly), but the more I thought about it, the more I entertained the idea. I mean, come on—Yoda. Wise. Fun. Mysterious. Plus, lightsabers! But reality set in, and I realized this wasn’t just about me. This name would stick. It’d be what all our future grandkids call me. It needed to carry meaning—and maybe fewer Star Wars references.

Alan "Yeah Yeah" McClennan

After more laughs, stories, and polling the family, I landed on something that felt just right: Yea-Yea (If you know, you know. And if you don’t, go watch The Sandlot). My wife chose Nonna, full of warmth and heritage.

Choosing these names wasn’t just a quirky moment—it was a lesson in legacy. It reminded me that intentionality matters. Even in the smallest things, like what you’ll be called, there are ripples that stretch into the future. These names aren’t just labels—they’re invitations. Invitations to play, to mentor, to show up. To be remembered.

Being a grandfather feels different than being a father. As a dad, I was in the trenches—juggling work, provision, discipline, growth. Now, I get to be a little more still. A little more fun. I get to support without always steering. Encourage without the same pressure. It’s a second chance to savor what, in the hustle of early fatherhood, I may have rushed through.

Noah's arrival reminded me of how tough those early parenting days are—and how much grace new parents need. The sleepless nights. The constant questions. The learning curve. But more than anything, the joy. A tiny soul to care for, love on, and guide.

So here’s to Noah, to Yea-Yea and Nonna, to Dairy Queen parking lots and unexpected memories. To the beauty of becoming, the power of presence, and the stories we’re just beginning to write.

Because in the end, it’s not about having all the answers — it’s about showing up with love, leading with purpose, and living a legacy that lasts.

Noah Archer Scott