I’ve had the unenviable task of caring for my 6 and two-and-a-half year old grandsons.  They have military parents who seem to always be on assignment, in different parts of the world.  What began as a 3 month assignment has now stretched into nearly two years and I’m bordering on spastic.  

Don’t get me wrong, I love them dearly, but the truth is I’m really not grandmother material.  I don’t like zoos and cartoons.  I don’t want to read kiddie books and roar, bark and meow and please spare me that endless drone of ridiculous questions that only kids can ask.  For real.  I’m more the “Go the f**k to Sleep” kind of Granny.

Anyway, I helped my daughter transition to Fort Riley in Kansas and before I could escape, found myself “stuck like Chuck“, yet again.  So as soon as I recovered from my nervous breakdown, I hired a nanny.  

Sasha was young enough to relate to them but old enough to be a young grandmother herself.  She had a degree in Early Childhood Development and had spent  decades working with small children.  She and the boys hit it off instantly,  so after weeks of observation, I took off.  Free at last!  

When I returned to Kansas, the boys hugged  and kissed me for hours.  “I missed you this much,” the terrible toddler said stretching his hands over his head.  They  bubbled with excitement as I told them about my trip and as I observed them, I marveled at how different, older they seemed.  With a promise that we would do something special, they kissed me goodnight and went to bed.

The following day, I took the boys to a carnival and after they’d ridden the bullfrog and slid down the banana, Brian asked to go to a restaurant.  Perfect.  I was starving. We were shown to a table next to a huge picture window.

“Let me take off your coat,”  I said to terrible toddler.

“Noooo,” he said loudly.  “I don’t want to.”

“Well, at least take off your gloves.”

“Noooo!…I don’t want to.”

“Okay,”  I said, “ Suit yourself, but you’re going to be uncomfortable.”

The waiter placed a basket of rolls on the table and they both lunged and grabbed the same roll and the tussle began.  I told you I’m not a good grandmother and I must be abusive too because  I wanted to poke them with my fork.  

“Let go!”…”I had it first.” …”It’s mine” was all I heard before terrible toddler drilled his brother with his little fist and sent his glasses flying into the air.  They landed on the table behind us right in someone’s salad that was swimming in ranch dressing.  

I apologized profusely and off we all went to the bathroom, where I cleaned Brian’s glasses.  I gave them a lecture and promised to knock their little teeth out one by one with the heel of my shoe if they didn’t behave.  “Anyone need to use it”, I asked.  No one did, so we returned to the table.  As soon as we got comfortable, terrible toddler said, “Grammy, I have to pee.”  

“We were just in the bathroom and you said you didn’t need to use it.”

“He got louder, “I have to pee-peeeeee!”

“Oh shoot”, I huffed.

“Ooooo,” he said putting his little hands over his mouth.  “You said a bad word.”

“No I didn’t”.

“You said shit.”

“Don’t say that, that isn’t nice.”  

“I didn’t say shit, “ he said, “You said shit, Grammy”.

He and his brother and nearby patrons were howling with laughter.  I was pissed.

Once I peeled them away from the hand dryer, we returned to the table, where the toddler remained bundled in his coat.  I was buttering a roll for Brian when suddenly for no reason the toddler rolled out of his chair and just laid on the floor.  

“Get up,”  I insisted, but he just lay there, his arms stretched out looking up at the ceiling.  Brian was bursting with laughter, “My little brother is crazy.”

Who the hell were these little kids?  I decided he was not in anyone’s path, so I just ignored him and he ignored me and just laid there staring at the ceiling.

The waiter was clearly amused, though he tried hard to conceal it.  He cleared his throat, then coughed, “Are you ready to place your order?”  

“Please bring me a Vodka martini straight up,”  I said.

Brian trained his eyes on mine,  “Grammy, you’re gonna get drunk and wobble all around like those people on television.  Maybe you should drink some coffee.”

“You watched lots of television while I was away?….Did you read?”

“We read twice a day.”

“That’s good…what did you read?”

“The Bible”

“What?!”

“The Bible….we read the Hoooly Bible…that‘s why I know you shouldn‘t have a drink because it’s evil.”

“It’ll be fine, Brian.”

“No it won’t, you’re gonna run into a light pole and kill us.  Then you’ll go to hell all bloody and drunk.”

The elderly woman at the next table leaned over and said, “If he’s that concerned about your drinking, maybe you should forgo one this time.”

“Shoo”, I hissed…......  That was it!

“Get you coat, Brian.”   I grabbed the baby at the midriff and toted him like a sack of potatoes.  We met up with the waiter with my drink.

I grabbed the martini, drunk it straight down and gave him a fifty-dollar bill to pay for my drink and the lady’s salad.  Every two steps, Brian asked, “Are you drunk yet, Grammy?”  I ignored him. “Grammy, are you drunk?”

Once home, I had Sasha take them to the park.  I grabbed a glass and a bottle of Absolute, closed myself in the den where I prepared to channel Donald Trump.