Zombie Post: A Wolf in Grandma’s Clothing

We’re on “vacation,” visiting my parents in Connecticut.

The person who is truly on vacation – no-sarcastic-quotation-marks vacation – is my son. He has been getting whatever he wants at the hand of Grandma and Pop-pop – new movies, lots of TV, new toys, ice cream, willing playmates – and as a result, his behavior with us, his mom and dad, has been pretty terrible. When we get involved, the fun is over. We are the police, come to break up the party.

Compared to his grandma, we might as well be Hitler.

So I’m resurrecting the piece I wrote after the last visit to Grandma’s house. Nothing has changed, and it’s no ones fault (except my parents’. And my son’s.) It remains as relevant today as it was when I wrote it.

Original piece: The Trouble with Grandma


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