Whenever I visit my mother’s house, I shut down. The kids watch more cartoons than they should, eat more sweets than they should, and get away with things more than they should. But we’re at Gammy and Gampa’s house so while the kids get spoiled, I hibernate.
Without my own laptop, writing was not happening. Creating on somebody elses computer in somebody elses space simply did not work for me. So I sat and played on my mom’s iPad, watched bad movies on her Netflix, and read her magazines. Even the pile of books she gave me seemed too arduous to attempt in my state.
Though I felt bored silly, it was probably precisely what I needed.
Even if it wasn’t, there is something inherently satisfying about watching the young generation interact with the older one, both ignoring the middle one. At Christmas time, when Gampa (my mom’s husband) and myself had some minor conflict, I waved the white flag with this quote,
The reason grandchildren and grandparents get along so well is that they have a common enemy. ~Sam Levenson
So I hibernate and they play. And play and play. There was Lego, trucks, bed throwing, chase, climb on backs, tromp through snow, vacations to the motorhome and pretend trips to Boot Lake and beyond.
With the grandparents wrapped around their little fingers, the girls have a blast and the grandparents? Well, Bob Dylan knows,
“I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.”