My Grandma and your Grandma sitting by the fire

25 Oct

It’s official, I’ve become my grandmother.

It used to be that I was like her in some ways and not all of them were bad: like making slow-cooked chocolate pudding and serving it with or without the skin, for example.

Now I check every receipt and demand money back if I have been overcharged.  In restaurants, at the Food King, by Girl Scouts, etc.  Not that saving money is bad, you understand, it’s the backlash from The Boy that makes things like eating, shopping and eating less than good.  His recent “zero-public interaction” policy (AKA: being age 14) has made it difficult to engage with cashiers, et al, without receiving an earful about how I embarrassed him, how I shouldn’t talk in front of him and just like that things are all about him when they used to be all about me.  (Now that’s bad.)

As someone who compliments complete strangers while out and about, I find The Boy’s inability to appreciate my directness confusing.  By letting the teller at the bank know that her hair “looks less trampy than before,” I have forged a connection with my community and The Boy should stop rolling his eyes and begin taking note.

And while I draw the line at chowing down on a pig’s knuckle, like grandma I have been known to go one-on-one with starchy foods.  Put me in a room with a pot of mashed potatoes topped with creamed corn and only one of us is coming out.  (Please let me know what happens- I’ll be napping.  Or crying.)

Born in Pennsylvania?  Yes for both.  Raised by a crazy lady?  I can only answer for myself and that answer is a resounding “yes.”

Do I feel sorry for The Boy?  Ha!  Not a chance.

As he matures and begins to tell tales of his own, the “Crazy Lady” stories are a currency and The Boy lives in Fort freaking Knox.

2 Responses to “My Grandma and your Grandma sitting by the fire”

  1. Guy Garrett October 25, 2012 at 1:29 pm #

    AS I age my eyes and ears are providing me with a internal life that is weirder or at the most inaccurate renderings of reality. I read” I am a grandma.” That made “Son” a father.
    Does “O” know this? Keep up the good work.


  2. Jonathan Broder October 26, 2012 at 7:49 am #

    Your snark count has never been higher.

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