What happens if I do this…?
R and I had an excellent day in Cardiff with the Boy Wonder, who was charming throughout. Except when he suddenly decided to exert his burgeoning willpower, obviously, and we’re all in the process of learning how to deal with those situations.
The really great thing about grandparenthood, I think, is time. As a parent there are so many competing calls on your time that you’re constantly having to push events in the direction you need them to go, whereas a grandparent can choose to stand and watch a Boy wandering about, doing random things that are important to no-one but him, and only intervene when it’s absolutely necessary. You can also, of course, use shameless bribery when you want to, because Grandparent Rules are allowed to be different to those of Mummy and Daddy.
B: “Walk.”
J: “OK.”
B: “Dis way?”
J: “OK.”
B: “Dis way.”
J: “If you like.”
B: “Here?”
J: “Ummm… no. That’s the way out. We need to go this way.”
B: “Dis way!”
J: “No. ‘Fraid not.”
B: “YES.”
J: “Would you like to play in the bandstand?”
B (looking sideways under his eyebrows): “Cake?”
J: “OK. Cake’s this way.”
B (after a moment’s thought): “I like chocklit cake.”
J (trying to keep face straight): “Do you?”
B: “Yes. Chocklit cake.”
J: “OK. This way then.”
B: “No. Dis way.”
Fair to say, it was a long afternoon, but the Boy did a lot of walking, running and climbing, and admired a lot of dogs, as well as eating the grandparentally-sanctioned morsel of chocklit cake and drinking half a babyccino. I had an equivalent portion of chocklit cake, but worked it off by carrying the Boy’s trike all the way to the park and then back home again. At no stage was it ridden, though he took it for a few walks, and even picked it up himself at one point, before deciding that perhaps it was better slung over Grandma’s shoulder after all.
This was the moment at which I made myself just a little tearful, wondering how amused my own beloved Gran would be, if she could see the way grandmothering is done these days. I don’t believe I ever saw her out in public without a nice matched outfit and a hat, so she might well have raised her eyebrows at my gilet, jeans and boots, but I know she’d have approved of the chocklit cake.