Despite “Grampy and His Fairyzona Playmates” being a fantasy, it contains multiple parallels with the writers’ real lives.

Consider, for example, when Lily and Grampy hurry to a pizza parlor where Lily and her bff, Penny, overstuff themselves “so much they had to use magic to make their stomachs feel good.”

Pizza’s certainly the favorite food of Hannah, the then 8-year-old co-creator of the book, as well as the favorite of her then 78-year-old granddad, me — even though we have no power to do spells that can ward off bellyaches.

My grandkid and I ritualistically shared a pizza every other Saturday night before the pandemic; during the coronavirus outbreak, we’ve eaten slices in our respective homes while feeling the same good sensations via FaceTime or Zoom.

Grampy also loves hamburgers “with double meat and fairy fries, which are regular fries with powdered fairy sugar on them.” And if you don’t count pizza, burgers are this geezer’s favorite thing to eat.

Another example of parallels is that Lily likes to tell both knock-knock jokes and riddles and so do both Hannah and me. We like hearing ‘em, too — especially from one of my neighbor-friends, Brian B. Beard.

All three main “Grampy…” characters enjoy playfulness and games, and all three of us living role models do as well (I could be found wearing a red rubber clown nose after a performance of Cirque du Soleil one year when Hannah accompanied me).

To see some fictional gamesmanship, though, check out the characters playing “Goddess Chess with life-sized statues of goddesses as pieces” on an invisible board. Hannah and I (and her mom and my wife) now play “Battleship” and “Sorry” via FaceTime or Zoom, a substitution for regular pre-pandemic bouts of “Monopoly,” “Clue,” “Pic Up Stix” and other leisure-time in-person activities.

In real life, Hannah and I both are environmentally conscious. I used to run a sustainability commission in my hometown of San Anselmo, California, and my wife, Nancy Fox, and I have so many recycling bins in our home — we do compost, paper and cardboard, plastic and tin — we sometimes drive Hannah a bit LoonyTunes.

In “Grampy.…” Lily, Penny and Grandpa Graybeard tug a mound of plastic bags from the ocean to shore “in a huge net they magically created together,” then drag it “to a landfill so it would no longer pollute the water.” The girls agree the action makes them “extra happy because they were really taking care of the planet.”

Real life also means ice cream — gobs of it — for both Hannah and me. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that “Grampy…” has a scene in which the girls accidentally make “1,498 cartons of forever-lasting ice cream” for themselves and “711 cartons of hamburger flavor for Grampy.”

Too much? Well, maybe.

Back in Part One, Lily starts to cry because she’s worried a lost chick “might never be found.” Her sensitivity reflects not only that trait of Hannah’s but of me, a man who more than occasionally breaks the male stereotype by weeping easily — even, I’ve been known to say, “at Road Runner cartoons.”