I love being a grams, mimi, and a gaga. Just because I love the names, doesn’t automatically make me a good grandma. I mean, I think it should, but apparently, it does not.
Case in point.
Okay, two cases in point. Or two points in one case. No idea. That got away from me.
Bad Grams: Exhibit A
My granddaughter, Madelyn, is 11 years old. She is funny, resourceful, and has an incredible command of sarcasm. I’m fairly certain she is nearly perfect.
So, Madelyn had an issue the other day where she was dragging her feet getting ready. My stepdaughter gave her plenty of chances to get dressed and then picked out some clothes for her.
Madelyn was not happy with the choice of jeans. By not happy, I mean, the situation devolved to crying and Madelyn being sent to her room.
30 minutes later, Madelyn emerged from her room. She apologized to her mother and admitted she had overreacted. She told her mom that the jeans were just fine.
Then, she made a big deal about bending over to pick something up and said “Oh, no…mom, my jeans just ripped.”
Baby girl had just cut a hole in the back of her jeans.
My stepdaughter told me this story while I was on speaker phone. Madelyn could hear the whole thing.
Me: Madelyn Kay?
Madelyn: Yes, Gaga?
Me: That was a terrible lie. Seriously, Awful. On what planet would you think any grown up can’t tell the difference when material rips or gets cut? And the timing? A little convenient.
Me: Yes, sweetie?
Stepdaughter: When I told my mom this story, she lectured Madelyn on being honest. My aunt lectured her about being honest.
Me: Uh huh?
Stepdaughter: You told her to lie better.
So, then I of course told Madelyn that being honest was a better choice and that sometimes being honest isn’t easy, it’s still way easier than lying.
Still, I wasn’t wrong. It was a terrible lie.
Bad Grams: Exhibit B
So, my stepdaughter called me the other night to tell me that Madelyn had to create a board game for science class.
About the skeletal system, the circulatory system, the digestive system and the cardiovascular system.
She put me on speaker and told Madelyn to read the rules to her game.
Madelyn: Okay, Gaga, first there are four colors. Like, the circulatory system is purple and the digestive system is blue, and so on.
Me: Okay, cool.
Madelyn: The goal of the game is to move your pieces to the safe place. You get there by rolling dice.
Me: I see, I’m with you.
Madelyn: But you don’t want to land on a space where there is another player.
Madelyn: Because then you get boned.
Me: I’m…what? I’m sorry, what did you say?
Madelyn: You get boned.
You guys, I did everything I could to not laugh. And I succeeded. I should get a goddamn trophy for not laughing. But her mom and dad? I could hear them in the background. They were laughing their asses off.
Madelyn: And you really don’t want that to happened, because you have to go back to the start and then you have a bigger chance of getting boned again.
And this is where I should lose my trophy.
Me: I think that sounds very creative and inventive.
Madelyn: I don’t believe you, Gaga. You’re just laughing at me.
Her mother, thank the stars, chimed in and said that they explained to Madelyn how the word “boned” could be mistaken for something inappropriate.
Me: Oh no, baby. I was just laughing because the “boned” part is unintentionally funny. But I mean it that it’s a great game. You did a wonderful job. When is this due?
Me: Okay, so let’s come up with something other than “boned”.
She settled on “old”. When two pieces end up on the same place, they get “old”.
It’s not nearly as funny, but way more appropriate.
I’m not saying these things make me a bad grandma. I don’t always suck. I’m pretty far from perfect, but that’s okay with me. Pretty sure it’s okay with Madelyn as well.