My Great Granddaughter’s Call

I got a call on the phone last night from one of my great granddaughters.  She was all fuddled up about a boy she’s seeing.  Cried her fool head off and I couldn’t understand a word she was saying for the first 20 minutes.

“Gran, I’m a mess,” she said, still blubbering away.  “I love this guy but, none of my friends or my Mom and Dad, like him. What am I going to do?”

“Is this the same one I met at your parent’s anniversary party,” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s him,” she answered.

I was hoping that she was going to tell me that it was someone else so that I could get down my daughter and son-in-law’s arses over it.  They’re a couple of donkeys anyway.  Unfortunately, I met the fool a few times and if I could have gotten out of my chair quicker, I would have given the jerk a pop in the face myself.

The last time I met the horse’s behind, he was dressed like a bum, smelled like he didn’t know what a bar of soap or a comb and toothbrush were and, walked around like he was King Tut, telling everybody that the moon walk in the 60’s was a fake, done in a tv studio.  He was wearing a t-shirt that said, “If you want to lead a boring life, listen to your parents”.

We were in one of them fancy, all-you-can-eat Chinese food restaurants the last time I saw him.  He was filling up his dang plate to the brim, shoveling it into that ape mouth of his, leaving half of it and, going back for another go-round.  With the belly on this whale of a kid, I wanted to whack him across the back of his head and tell him there were starving people in the world who could live a week off of the stuff he was leaving behind.  My daughter stopped me.

“Don’t do it, Mother,” she said.  “Paul and Grace are trying hard not to interfere with Emily’s decisions because it only pushes her further towards him.”

“It doesn’t seem to be working,” I told my daughter.

Like a fool, I kept my dang mouth shut but, it was hard to see such a pretty, sweet, intelligent young thing like Emily with a tub of lard, still cramming his face full of food and talking nonsense.

Not even in between mouthfuls, chomping his fool way through his fourth plate that he wouldn’t finish and swallowing it down with his third glass of pop, he filled us all in on how none of us knew how to live and, something about us all being ants, following the corrupt governments.  I lost track of what the hell he was talking about because I’d turned my hearing aid down.

I had asked him at one point where he got his education.

“The education systems are full of bulls**t,” he answered.  “I get my education where it counts. That’s why I quit after highschool.”

Ok, so turns out the moron gets all of his so-called “education” off of his laptop computer on some dang place like, Youtube.  (Didn’t know what that was until my granddaughter showed me on my computer.)  Bunch of morons, looking like idiots, trying to make themselves into tv stars with crap, if you ask me but, that’s my generation.  To each his own.

By the end of the night, he told me that “all gray-hairs were brainwashed”.  That’s when I hit him and my daughter tried to tell him I was senile.  Let ’em think what they want.  If I ever see him again, I can use that as an excuse to back-hand him but good. Dementia has its advantages.

Emily finally quit her blubbering long enough to ask if I was still there.

“You done your crying?” I asked her.

“I think so,” she answered, still sniffling.  “Gran…what do I do?”

Now, I’ve long since done all of my child-rearing…all five of them.  There’s enough of ’em to figure this out but, there ain’t a bloody decent head amongst them all to help this girl out.  All of this new psychology crap doesn’t sit well in my gut so, I’m not about to mince words on this child.

“What do you think you should do,” I asked her.

“I don’t know, Gran…that’s why I’m asking you.  You’re smart.  You know so much.”

“I’m not that smart.  I’m a Gray-Hair and I haven’t got my education from The University of Youtube,” I answered.

“Oh Gran,” she answered with a bit of a laugh.  “Kevin’s a bit of a jerk with that stuff.  Don’t pay any attention to it.  He just says what he thinks.”

“Do you agree with him?” I asked, pouring myself some more tea and flipping on the tv with the sound down, figuring this could take a while.

(Long pause.)

“No…of course, I don’t agree with everything he says.  It’s just his opinion.  I have a mind of my own.  You know that.”

“So, you don’t agree with everything he says.  How ’bout the way he talks to people nearly 4 times his age?” I ask, changing channels to find something decent to at least look at on the tv.

(Another long pause)

“No, I don’t like some of the things that he does and says,” she answered hesitantly.  “But….but, that’s him.  I don’t try to change him and he doesn’t try to change me.”

“Do you like the way he dresses and looks?”

“Well, I think he could dress better than he does and I try to get him to think about it and do some exercise for his health but, he says he doesn’t care what other people think about him,” she answers, sounding like she was trying to convince herself that it was ok.

“Uh-huh,” I answer, taking a bite into a tea-biscuit with my tea and letting her think, waiting for her to talk again.

“I mean, I guess….I guess, I kinda don’t like that he’s not considerate of himself and sometimes, he’s rude.  But, it is his choice and I don’t have the right to change him, right?”

“Do you think you could change him, if you wanted to?” I asked, reaching for another of those Peak Freans biscuits with the chocolate cover.

“No, I guess I couldn’t….he wants to be who he is and I have to accept that about him, don’t I?”

“Do you?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose not.  “I guess I could end it.  But, I love him!”

At this point, I was getting fed up.  The girl had no brains and I had to go to the loo.

“Do you care about what you think of him?” I ask, getting fidgety because I’m afraid I’m going to wet my dang pants after all of the tea I drank.

“Yeah, of course!” she answered.

“Well, what do you think of him?”

(At this point, I asked her to think about it and left to hit the can.  She’d had a good 10 or more minutes to think because it takes me a good 3 minutes just to get out of the chair once my knees tighten up.)

“So, what’s your answer?” I ask, picking up the phone again.

“I think he’s got some growing up to do still.  I think he’s got some issues he needs to work out and I don’t like the way he dresses or talks to others but, I love him….oh Gran, what do I do?”

“You sure you’re listening to yourself?” I asked her, wishing she was in front of me to give her a good swat across that pretty little head of hers to wake her up.  “You don’t like the way he looks, dresses or talks to other people.  You know he’s got issues, needs to grow up and that you can’t change him.  What the hell is there to love about him?”

(A very long pause)

“You don’t like him either, do you, Gran?” she asks, finally seeming to catch-on now.

“I don’t have to think about living with him for the rest of my life so, I’m not the one that matters.” I answer.  “You’re the one who will have to get up every morning and look at that mug of his, day in and day out, year after year.  Your mom and dad and your friends don’t have to live with him either.  So, it doesn’t matter whether I or anyone else likes him or not.  It only matters what you can stand every morning and every night.  Can you take it?”

(Total silence)

“I’m going to go to bed,” I said, getting my aching joints to move again, unable to wait this decision out any longer.  “You think about what I’ve asked you and call me back tomorrow.”

I got a call this morning from my daughter.  Emily dumped the idiot’s sorry arse at midnight last night.

Nothing like putting an entire future in front of someone to make them realize how long and short it can all be.

It also goes to show that all “Gray-Hairs” aren’t stupid.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. ponderinglifetoo
    Mar 01, 2018 @ 04:20:17

    Reblogged this on My Little Corner of Life and commented:

    My grandmother’s memories of my daughter’s call to her with a previous boyfriend. I have tears coming down my cheeks. She was witty to say the least.


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