Thanksgiving is a family time. We need not only reflect on the blessings that we should be thankful for, but also those who’ve shared those blessings with us. This is an older article, but it fits the season, which is really all about kids. Let’s face it. Somewhere around thirty or so the magic of the holidays gets away from most of us. Paying bills, working, the break sometimes even gets in the way, and we become guilty not plodding along on that treadmill. But kids, and especially grandkids? Well, they ain’t there yet. Ever wonder why the best holidays are around the end of the year? Because back in the day the crops were in and everyone was gathered around the fireplace. I give you GRANDPEOPLE!
Grandchildren can be a very fulfilling part of your life. Their joy, playfulness, and love fills your autumn years, so why is it so stressful? Where do they find the capacity to inflict insanity in an otherwise docile old person? I have come up with some things that run you to the edge. If you’re a grandparent you will recognize them all.
Repeat, repeat, repeat. . .
Two year olds are just figuring out language. There is a lot of baby talk, but they are becoming aware of the importance that communication plays in their lives. Two issues; they still talk 80% baby talk, and they don’t think YOU understand anything so every statement or request is verbally Xeroxed. Ishiguro wanna anny What? Ishiguro wanna anny What? ISHIGURO WANNA ANNY! NO! No is the only answer you can give in a situation like this. This doesn’t stop the inquiry, however. It will continue for maybe eight hours.
So and so is doing this or that to me
Always remember that you are the high court. As such you have to hear all complaints from all grand people against all other grand people. There is only one designation. Class A felony. There is no pardon, no parole, and no appeal. The accuser wants justice they can watch, which is high entertainment. After justice is administered you can expect counter charges.
Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.
You must give children water, there are laws. When you give five grandchildren water it is no less than Moses parting the Red Sea. There are three options: Option A) Give one big drink for them to pass around. Are you a fool you ask? What about germs? Forget about germs, they’re already sharing them. They eat dog poop! No measured amount is ever fair. “SHARE, SHARE, SHARE,” you will scream until you choke, but possession is 100% of the law in the grand people civil code. Grab, drink, drink, drink as fast as you can, can’t touch me, I’m Aqua-Man! This has all the others spinning and crying. B) Separate drinks for all. Give them only clear water, and put them in a room that you intend to shampoo. C) Give up in disgust and throw the water into the back yard.
I go potty.
They crap ALL the time. When one goes they all immediately feel the urge and the simple logic that only one person can only sit on a toilette at one time does not play into it. This invariably elicits screams from the bathroom. I hate the sound of the word, “Paaaaa Paaaaaa!” A bath used by grandchildren cannot have soaps, toilette paper, water, rugs, or towels in it. These things are provided as needed. Also try not to have small kittens around. They fit into a commode. I know!
I pooped myself.
In time you will learn to appreciate the smell, and texture of crap. It’s sort of like learning to eat Sushi. You know it’s actually stupid, but everyone does it. Yeah, just think about it. You’re worried about a shared water glass between siblings, yet eat raw fish with worms in it. Don’t tell me you haven’t Googled that! A two year old in potty training is like running a blender with the lid off, if you can picture the lid being on the bottom. Sometimes they will make it, but these times are not so numerous that reliable statistics can be drawn. And I have read all the methods used to potty train. Ignore these. These people are all liars. What will happen is one day you’ll just notice they use the toilette, and you will never know how you did it. Until that day you had just better accept that for the time being your life is crap.
OMG! Never, NEVER seat grand people within striking distance of each other at meal time. Throwing a bone into a dog pound makes more sense. And forget about equal portions. A Crack Dealer with a postal scale cannot measure meals with the accuracy required to satisfy these people. And don’t give them water! Do that later. My granddaughter, Puck, is a diabetic so she gets the “unfair” plate. She has developed a lizard’s tongue, and can snap a potato from a sibling’s plate at two yards.
There is no hope. They only sleep when they knock each other out. YOU will fall asleep before they do. May God have mercy on you if this happens. My twins can remove a full sized door and pull down a ceiling fan if given just a little uninterrupted time. When you wake you will not believe. The solution? Handcuffs. Eventually the parents will show up. They have to. That’s the law. They may ask you if you’re doing anything that night. LIE! Then they have to take the grand people with them, and you can then tell everyone how wonderful it is to have grandchildren.
Control what they see and listen to on YouTube!
I say YouTube because that’s where the juicy stuff is. And it can be anything. My grandkids live in Mormonville, Utah. Mormon kids are so sweet. They say, “Yes ma’am,” and “Mother may I,” and never pee off the porch. Well, MY grandpeople are from downtown central Texas! They will fry up your cat if they can find enough jalapeños to season it. They also have iPads, iPhones, and the best internet connection money can buy. Hence YouTube.
Now most of the time it’s channels like “The Bright Side,” or at least that’s what they want YOU to see. When you’re not watching it’s straight to Californication. Now these little fellas aren’t into porn, or anything like that, but they sure are into Rap! They don’t completely understand the meaning of some of the words, such as “Riding Dirty.” Their grandmother convinced them that they could be arrested for not cleaning the car. Don’t knock it. It worked!
So, my two eight year old twins find themselves in the Boys’ and Girls’ Club playground among the shiny clean Mormon kids in their Sunday best. At the top of the slide is a girl about their age, frozen stiff at the prospect of going over the top. The twin directly below her is trying to push her by the butt up the ladder. After a minute the twin below him starts rapping. “Move BITCH! Git out da way! Git out da way, BITCH, git out da way!” The other twin joins in, and one of the little girl’s mothers ran over to save her.
Speaking of little girls, they’re all ladies men. Coming out of the club one day they got unto the van and NewBaby told me there was a new girl in the club. “Papa, she was so pretty the twins were flipping backwards. She said she was in the third grade, but she looked like she was in the SECOND!
And the granddaughter, Puck? Give me a break! She comes downstairs one morning with a sleeveless blouse, not that there’s anything to be sleeveless about. Her hair spiked strait up, with the tips stained with India Ink, mascara on making her look like a raccoon, leotards and a tutu. And she was ready to trot off to school with Joseph Smith’s finest! If the boys at the “Holier Than Thou” elementary school had seen that they’d have remembered it when they were eighty years old, and in their minds she would have never aged.
The Butcher Shop