There are a lot of things I love about my grandchildren. To be honest…everything. Even when they are sassy I still think they are gifted…at being sassy. That has to mean they are creative. It takes a great deal of brains to think of ways to mouth back. It stimulates their vocabulary and teaches them how to come up with an answer quickly. They learn to assess how we handle the situation and to read our facial expression. Right?
Maybe I’m a little deranged, but I think I am a lot like most other grandparents…maybe its the aging that makes us blind… cataracts or high blood pressure causes us to change our views on the “correct” way to handle children. Regular intake of fiber and baby aspirin has caused our common sense to go awry. Still, they’re so darn cute when they are being stubborn. My granddaughter is the sweetest little thing…worries about everyone else…never fails to ask how I am feeling and is shy and pretty and as someone once described her “…a gentle soul.” That is until she doesn’t want to help with picking up the toys she has just played with. The other day she had gladly dug out seventy-some crayons while searching for the perfect color to scribble over a fairy on a tulip. We were getting ready to go so I cheerily sang, “Clean up, clean up, everybody, clean up.” A little ditty my daughter-in-law made up that works like a charm on my other grandchildren…Little sister at age 21 months sang, “Cean up, cean up, body, cean up!” She then proceeded to cean up the crayons.
The three- year-old climbed on the couch and started watching cartoons. ”Sweetie, it is time to clean up the crayons. We have to leave.”
“No, Gamma. I too ‘cared.” Scared? Of what? Missing an episode of “Max and Ruby?” I sensed a problem.
“You helped make the mess, so you have to help pick it up. That is the rule.”
“No, Gamma. I too little.” Little? She is three, her sister isn’t even two yet and she is managing to lift crayons and drop them in a box.
I shut off the cartoons. A little like the theory of relativity…a reaction…a big, opposite reaction. ”Gamma! I was watching Max and Ruby. I want to watch cartoons!” This is where I have to be the mean Grandma. I have to win…the little one is watching. ”We have to go and you have to help pick up the crayons. Now, help your sister please.” She grabbed Puppy and stuck a lip out, “No, I no feel good.”
Hmmm…there’s that creativity crud coming back to haunt me. Okay, this is where I have to offer a choice. ”You either pick up the crayons or Puppy has to go in the other room.” She clutches Puppy and starts to break my heart with a whimper. ”No, Gamma. I too little.” I have to be tough. I pick up Puppy, place him in the bathroom and shut the door. A fresh round of sobbing and screams of “I don’t want to cean up.”
Little sister is watching. She is taking lessons here. I have to win or I am in big trouble. I get tougher. I give the choice of helping or sitting in my bedroom alone until she decides to help. Nope, she is not helping. We head to the bedroom kicking and screaming. After reassuring and wandering in and out every few seconds and comforting her worried little sister, I finally have a little girl who is helping pick up crayons. These are not thirty pound crayons or crayons that are hard to grip due to special rays protecting them…no, they are just crayons. Phew! She is gifted. I’m exhausted and feel like the meanest grandma in the world…but the crayons are in the box and she helped. I’m so proud…she is the stubbornest little sweetheart…I know she got some of those genes from me…They’ve been handed down from generation to generation…oh, yeah, I’m a grandma alright…a deranged grandma…I love everything about my grandchildren. Now quit being critical and pass the fiber.
