One of my favorite Noozhawk columns was the one I wrote in 2014 about becoming a grandparent for the first time. It was life-changing and easily ranks among my personal Top 10.

Although I’ve since been blessed with three more wonderful grandchildren, that first one was groundbreaking.

Maybe I’m becoming overly sentimental, but time has flown by.

That little bundle of red-haired, blue-eyed joy who filled our lives with laughter and love is becoming a teenager this fall.

How did that happen?

Then I look around at my friends and my own adult children and realize the answer: it happened to all of us.

The baby boomers are growing older — some in better shape than others — and our grandchildren are growing up right before our eyes.

When Eloise arrived, I fell hopelessly in love. I had no idea how much becoming a grandparent would change me.

Now I find myself facing another transition.

We’re no longer sitting on the floor playing games, wrestling with car seats or reading the same bedtime story five times. We aren’t baking cookies every afternoon.

Like her parents, this is new territory for me.

Years ago, my dear friend, the late Montecito resident Lillian Carson, helped me understand grandparenting in ways I never expected.

Her books gave words to feelings I couldn’t quite describe. Back in 2014, her book The Essential Grandparent’s Guide to Teenagers, seemed like something far off in the future.

Suddenly, here we are.

I’ve learned that making the transition with grandchildren as they become teenagers means allowing the relationship to grow up, too.

The little girl who used to run into my arms now often responds with one-word answers. She prefers texting to talking, and is far more interested in her friends than her family.

My daughter gently reminds me not to take it personally.

She’s right. It’s not rejection. It’s independence, identity, privacy, self-discovery — and, apparently, experimenting with new hairstyles.

This stage requires a different kind of grandparenting. Less hands-on. More available.

I’m happy to pick her up after school, drive her to guitar lessons or browse Chaucer’s Books and Godmothers with her because she’s an extraordinary reader.

We’ve started playing Rummikub and mahjong, and she’s already beating me. That’s humbling.

Sometimes she isn’t interested in shopping or lunch, and there are days when our conversations are brief. It can feel as though the relationship is slipping away.

But it isn’t.

It’s simply changing.

I’m learning to listen more and talk less — which anyone who knows me will find highly amusing.

The less I lecture, the more she shares. Sometimes it’s about school. Sometimes it’s about her younger sister. Sometimes it’s about how “strict” her mother is.

I’ve discovered that curiosity keeps doors open. Interrogation slams them shut.

I’ve also learned not to guilt-trip her by saying how much I miss her. My daughter reminds me that, at this age, a quick text means more than a lengthy phone call.

So now I send simple messages: Thinking of you. Good luck on your math test.

I’m slowly getting the hang of it.

I’ve also learned that taking an interest in what interests them goes a long way. We celebrated her birthday with a concert at the Kia Forum in Inglewood, which scored me a few points.

We’re also planning a grandmother-granddaughter trip to New York City — theater, museums, shopping, hotel room service and, of course, the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty.

Family stories matter, too. My adult children still enjoy looking through the baby books I kept for each of them, and my grandchildren love hearing stories about what their parents were like growing up.

Each grandchild has their own favorites.

Vivi loves mac and cheese and kombucha. Walker and Lydia are devoted to chicken tenders, fries, ketchup and popsicles.

Eloise has inherited my sweet tooth. She also knows there’s always gum, a treat and a bottle of water waiting in my glove compartment after school.

Raising teenagers isn’t easy, and I’m grateful I can be close enough to love them without carrying the daily burden of discipline.

I follow their parents’ rules — mostly — while still keeping one drawer in my kitchen stocked with the “bad stuff.”

I treasure family holidays, flag football games, school performances, birthday parties and afternoons spent shopping together.

I just wish time would slow down.

Some of my shoes now fit my granddaughter. Occasionally, a favorite sweater, piece of jewelry or bottle of perfume quietly disappears into her backpack. Even my eyeliner isn’t always safe.

My brother, sister and I were fortunate to have wonderful grandparents who genuinely seemed to enjoy every minute they spent with us. Looking back, I realize that was their greatest gift.

That’s the grandparent I hope to be.

Life keeps changing, and so do our relationships. But there is still nothing sweeter than the smell of a newborn baby and the hopes, dreams and love that arrive with them.

Watching them grow is a little like opening the most wonderful gift — never quite knowing what beautiful surprise awaits inside.

MORE JUDY FOREMAN

Judy Foreman: Ready or Not, I’m a Grandma Now — and I Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way

Judy Foreman: Little Carpinteria Delivers Big Laughs at The Alcazar

Judy Foreman: The Lillie Brings Needlepoint, Mahjong and a Touch of Nostalgia to Summerland

Judy Foreman: The Well Gardens Is a Trip to Paradise