The Light Switch of Love for Grandkids

There is a mystery about loving grandkids. When I was young, back when Lincoln was in the White House, I heard grandparents talk about their grandchildren in a way I could not comprehend. They seemed unhinged. If it was love it was some abnormal, unreasonable kind of love that was, well, off a bit. I recall thinking, I will never be like that. I will not be soft in the head about grandchildren like these silly old people seem to be. And yet, my wife and I joined their ranks immediately when the first grandchild was born.

We found, to our shock, a latent and previously undetected tendency to spontaneous and compulsive giving to our grandchildren. We found ourselves hurrying through meals at Cracker Barrel only to spend hours in the shop. The ruthless people who set the Cracker Barrel plot in motion knew what they were doing. Oh, yes, they did. They cynically exploited the well-known and near-fatal weaknesses of grandparents. They tempt us in to eat biscuits and gravy, but breakfast is just the bait. On the way out, yes, on the way out—and, by the way, you cannot get out without passing it—is where the trap gets sprung. The “shop” is where the diabolical nature of their plot is revealed. They have cleverly stocked their shelves with clothing and toys and candy so irresistible that no grandparent except the absolute soulless can leave without an armload.

As if that were not enough, they display racks, racks, I tell you, of CDs from our youth. We are like moths to a flame. We see what they are doing. We are old, not stupid, but we cannot control ourselves. We leave, time after time, with bags of cute little dresses and board games and CDs by Willie Nelson which we may already have but, well, just in case.

None of that is really the bad part. A little grandma and grandpa petting and spoiling is OK. We just dare not let the compulsion get out of hand. Remember, you are not the ultimate hero/rescuer for all your grandchildren. You are not their parents. You are not their source. You are definitely not the one who buys them what their parents have told them they cannot have, even if you bought it at Cracker Barrel.

While we must hold our extravagance in check where it is the most difficult to contain, which is with our perfect and sinless grandchildren, we must unleash it with others. Restaurant wait staff, for example. One waiter told me that waiters and waitresses hate working the lunch meal on Sunday. (By the way, I still use the word waitress because I’m over seventy-five. Also, by the way, I still use the words actress and seamstress and the phrase master bedroom because I will not be bullied.) The waiter said it was because all the church people, especially older church people, are very demanding, complain a lot, and tip little. The wait staff of a restaurant depends on tips. Tip generously. That is not the moment to count pennies. It’s also not a moment to be rude and difficult to deal with. Why give the church a bad name? If you are going to be mean and leave a small tip, tell the waitress you are an atheist!

To learn more about Mark Rutland’s new book, Keep On Keeping On, visit MyCharismaShop.com