If you need adequate background, please refer to earlier post on “The Geriatric and the Baby Genius”. Long story short: my son + my grandmother = molasses, molasses, molasses. But you have to think of more than just molasses to get this relationship.
The dynamic duo never takes long to get entranced by each other, and, in an instant, I feel like I have two children.
As the center of attention in a room of family, my son is grinning, laughing, and giving one of his performances. Out of the blue, literally, he begins to walk out, turns to my grandmother and says, “Do you want me to go to our room?”
Aside: “Our room” is my grandmother’s room at my grandmother’s house. My son has determined on his own that, although, my grandmother’s house is hers, that room and everything in it is theirs.
Back to the story. After convincing my grandmother that she wanted him to go to their room, my son further convinced my grandmother that she wanted to go with him. SO, it is definitely after bedtime by now and I have definitely been overridden as the parental unit of this trio. But how could I argue with Wonder Pets? Yes, what he wanted was one of their cartoon viewing sessions. I allowed it. We are at Granny’s house.
I am sitting in the chair in the den, when my grandmother walks up with her head hanging down and speaking with an almost inaudible voice. I get uneasy. I only know this body language when I son is coming to tell me that he has done something very, very wrong. She leans over close to me as if she doesn’t want anyone else to know. And the looks in her face says she doesn’t want me to know. My internal alarms are preparing to sound…”He didn’t make it to the bathroom, he needs some pants.” YOU TWO! Nothing is broken. He is not hurt. He just didn’t make it to the bathroom? I exhale and get up to put him in the tub for his already later than normal nightly bath.
He is sitting with a naked bottom watching cartoons, doesn’t want to get up from their spot and decides that because he is dry again, he does not need a bath. My grandmother says “well, he IS dry” This woman who would stop short of scrubbing us with bleach if we wet ourselves when we were little just took his side. Because, logically, taking of his side is what happened. There is no right or wrong with these two, just their side and everyone else’s side (there was one betrayal, but that is a later post).
So, baby genius got in the bathtub, then my second alarm system set in. “Oh sh*t, Grandma’s is going to kill me if he peed in her carpet!” I thought. When we were little and my grandmother found out that someone peed in her carpet? She would put her nose to the floor like a hound, find the spot and make somebody scrub it. I begin to scramble and ask her where he peed. “Oh, I don’t know, it’s fine.”