I saw this on Facebook the other day and thought it was so true!
I often find it hard to believe that the same woman who raised me is the grandmother of my children. The same woman that told me to swallow my spit after crying out in thirst is the same woman that brings my children home with a drink cup in each hand. The same woman that told me to pretend I was a missionary tells me how she feels “so sorry” for my children and feels the need to provide them with candy and sugar every time she sees them. It’s like she’s gone bonkers.
Every time I get whacked in the rear with the giant foam sword she bought, I’m reminded that she’s blowing my inheritance at the Dollar Tree. How about giving to the kid’s 529 college fund?? Nah. Let’s buy this giant pen from the Dollar Tree with a giant pile of crap on it instead. That’s a better idea.
My daughter thinks it’s a swirl of chocolate ice cream and my mom doesn’t even know what an emoji is. But if the child wants a pen covered in poop they shall have it!
Apparently, it’s our job as parents to be the bad guys and the grandparent’s job to just enjoy spoiling. I suppose they have earned the right. And I know my kids will have lots of good memories (and cavities) with all their grandparents, and that is very special. This “grand” parenting doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe I’ll get to enjoy doing it many, many years from now.