I Guess It Really *IS* True About Grannies

My mom is a Piece of Work.

She loudly and repeatedly proclaims that one should Not Spoil Grandchildren. So far, she's practiced what she preaches.

Attention wise--oh yes, she spoils them rotten. When they're with her, they get home cooked meals, their teeth are brushed with a fanaticism that would make a dentist writhe orgasmically, and they are carefully sanitized.

"I sponged them off," she brags when we pick them up from her house. I suppose it's just my imagination that she is implying the level of cleanliness at Chez Lorrie, is, shall we stay, substandard.

Materially--ah, there's the rub! She does not believe in buying them clothes or toys.

For Christmas and birthdays they receive--and you'll just have to take my word for it- 1. A savings bond 2. A can of Chicken Noodle Soup and 3. A box of Kleenex.

Anyway.

So Roger caved and bought Meredith a shiny new life jacket so that the poor child can keep up with her more sartorially gifted peers. You shoulda seen the shit eatin' grin that brat had on as she waved her treasure in front of my horrified eyes.

Last night at dinner with Mom I joked about the life jacket, expecting some validation of my theory that a child with a huge pool in her backyard should not be terribly picky about the choice of life saving gear.

Mom turned to Meredith for explanation. "Well, you see," Meredith remarked jovially, "I was COMPLAINING about the old one."

Granny missed the point.

"Complaining!" she exclaims proudly. "Listen at her talking!! She sounds SO MUCH OLDER THAN FOUR YEARS OLD."

Ah yes. I knew the spoiling thing would kick in sooner or later.