When I pick up my 6-year-old granddaughter, Ryan, at school, I like to stand for a minute or two and just gaze into her first-grade classroom at that pale sprite with red glasses and lank brown hair that she insists on growing long. I usually have only a few seconds before she spots her redheaded, hoodie-wearing grandmother peering eagerly in, because she knows it’s Wednesday. I always pick her and her sister, Maggie, up on Wednesdays and take them to my house for the rest of the day.
When she does see me, a look of delight that she can't conceal spreads across her features. I suppose a similarly dopey look of sheer affection crosses my face, too, so that we both have to make up for it when she steps outside the classroom door:
“Didn’t you bring a jacket?” I say with a show of crispness.
“You’re too early again, Bobbie,” she responds with as much sternness as she can muster, even as her return hug gives her away.
We do the best we can, finding ways to be cool, despite sharing the most uncool relationship there is, that of a grandmother and granddaughter besotted with each other.
Shaking Heads and Sneaking Hugs
Ryan knows better than to follow me around in a frank display of utter fondness, uttering fatuous phrases like, "I love you, Bobbie." Instead she works her dark eyebrows to convey exasperation at my lame jokes, as she says, "Oh, Bobbie." Then she wrecks it by slipping me love notes (however offhandedly they are dropped onto my dinner plate or shoved in my pocket), and giving me that quick, surprising extra hug when I have released her, that hug that was really not necessary, after our good-byes were already said.
| Do your grandkids think it's cool to show how much they love you? |
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Yes, they're not shy about it! 83.5%
No, but they do it anyway; they can't resist 8.9%
No, but it's okay; I know they care 7.6%
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For my part, I allow myself those fond looks through the window only when I’m sure she doesn't see me. When talking to other people, I refer to Ryan as the Hall Monitor, for her rule-loving ways. I describe her need to shuffle cards “in privacy” and then come back with nothing but jacks and kings and aces in her hand.
A Love Triangle?
We want to conceal the intensity of our affection out of simple self-respect, but also out of consideration for their mother, who wants to continue in the ludicrous illusion that her children love her best.
Two nights ago I had both grandgirls in my lap at a sushi counter while their poor mother called forlornly from her place two seats down, “Hey, doesn’t anybody want to sit by me?”
“Go sit with your mom,” I whispered into Maggie’s hair. “You can sit with me in the movie.” Maggie went, because we all know that appearances must be kept up. We weren’t going to get to go on a lot of dates like this if it meant tormenting their mother. Also I was dropping bits of California roll on their heads.
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