Competition on a grand scale

It doesn’t take much to be the “best grandmother.” Well, sometimes it takes a little planning, but other times it just falls into your lap. I’m actually up against some pretty stiff competition when it comes to being the best grandmother. You see, my granddaughters, who are thirteen and ten, have some fine grandparents who not only live on a lake, have a ski boat and just happen to own a farm with horses and cows, but they have a pickup which can be driven on their land by a thirteenyear-old who is learning to drive.

It’s rather hard to come up with something better than that. By the time girls turn thirteen, nothing impresses them. Whereas, naming a goat, riding in the back of the pickup, and shooting a gun at bottles, targets, and dove used to impress them, I’m pretty sure that even those grandparents are feeling the chill that only a thirteen-year-old can give. The ten-yearold is still amazed with my skills at Scrabble, and she was impressed with the fact that I could walk all the way around the park near their house without fainting. However, that pickup parked out at the farm is the trump card for the other grandparents. I could probably levitate myself to the roof of the house, and they’d just roll their eyes and say, “Nanny!”

I just hope they remember how good I was at making cookies (or getting the cookies from my friend who is a professional cookie baker). When they were little, they thought that I made Diane-Martin-Cookies. Time proved my undoing when Diane Martin showed up at my house with icing to demonstrate the fine art of decorating.

Although the girls are getting a little old to scream “Nanny” when they see me at the door, my five-year-old grandson is still up for grabs. Of course, he is blessed with great grandparents on his father’s side, too. Why didn’t I buy a farm, load up with chickens and horses, and invest in a four-wheeler? No, I live in town, have two dogs that jump on him and scare him, and have no area for riding motorcycles, horses, and the much-adored four-wheeler.

Of course, I know spending money on a child is not the answer. Spending time with them is the best gift we can give our grandchildren. So, last weekend I went to Austin to a T-ball game. I had tried in the spring, but rain washed out the field, and we ended up picking strawberries. This time, we could have spent our time better gathering up pairs of animals for the Ark. We’d have had better luck with water polo. Strawberries are good, but there are no strawberry patches ready to pick in September — and the pontoon boat was in the shop.

Luckily, I had shopped at Goodwill on the way into town. I bought a couple of green “hands” which I thought belonged to a Hulk costume but turned out to be Shrek “hands.” It didn’t matter. They were a hit. You would have thought I’d handed him the keys to my car and said, “Have a good time.” He took them to the restaurant, wore them to bed, and spent many an hour picking his nose and scratching his bottom with the big green hands. Nanny did good. For $2, I was the “best Nanny in the World.”

It’s really and truly not a competition. At least that’s what we all say, but when I find something that will make their eyes sparkle, I want to give it to them. Mostly I want to entice them close enough to snuggle for a few minutes.