I was the first and only grandchild for four years, the only girl for much longer and the only grandchild to spend entire summers with my grandparents. I think there is a bit of
spoiling privilege that comes with that...
I don't know how old I was the one and only time my grandmother lost patience with me...
I was being overly dramatic about cleaning a mirror in my room. My grandmother came in and snatched the can of glass cleaner from me and sprayed the white foam saying, "This is all you had to do" as she wiped the mirror clean. I stood there with my arms folded and when she left the room I slammed the door.
I can just imagine her thinking in that moment how much I reminded her of my mom.
We are door slammers.
She opened the door as quick as I'd slammed it and said, "We aren't going to do THAT!" I'd never seen her so mad before, at least not at me.
Like a bratty grandchild, I yelled, "I wanna go home!" And home was two flights away. I think she said, "Okay fine" and went back to cleaning while I probably cried it out.
My grandmother was a school teacher, so she had summers off. We had a routine each day, that always ended with going to pick up my grandfather from work and coming back home to have dinner. After dinner we'd sit on the porch a while. If it rained sometimes I got to put on my bathing suit to play in the rain. Sometimes we sat in the living room. My grandfather read the newspaper, my grandmother did crosswords and I played with my dolls. I'd sit with her while she prepared my grandfather's lunch for the next day. She'd sit with me while I took my bath. Once in bed, my grandfather would sometimes bring me a couple Hershey's kisses or a dixie cup full of ice cream that I wasn't supposed to have at that hour.
I don't remember the time between our "argument" that day and us going to pick up my grandfather, but I know I was still pouting when they talked about me from the front seat.
My grandmother spoke loudly to my grandfather, “KENYA IS READY TO GO HOME. DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD ROAST HOT DOGS AND MARSHMALLOWS FOR HER LAST NIGHT?"
Instead of going straight home, we'd gone to the store to buy what was needed to do just that.
At some point during roasting the marshmallows that evening, my grandmother asked me if I still wanted to go home the next day and I said no.
That memory warms my heart, the show they put on for me knowing good and well that I couldn't just leave the next day.