For the past couple days, Grandma has been on a rampage. I don’t know if it’s because of the new medicine she’s on or because Mum and I have been spending more time in the kitchen which means less with her. Regardless of the reason, she’s been ruthless.
On Tuesday, it was Mum who sinned by “dragging the baby away” when she asked me to help her cook dinner. Last night, I left the room without telling her that I was going to the kitchen, and she declared that I hate her and that no one wants her here. We never know how long these bad moods are gonna last, but usually they can leave as quickly as they come.
Tonight, everything seemed good as we sat down to dinner. We set the table together and she was happy to fold everyone’s napkins. I put down a bowl of Pasta Fagioli in front of her and it got that all-important seal of approval: “oooh, that looks good!” But the good mood was not to last.
Within ten minutes of sitting down, Pops made the mistake of asking her how the food was. She immediately gave him a dirty look that would have made Marlon Brando proud and accused him of talking to everyone else but her. Somehow, this escalated into her declaring that she wasn’t wearing his clothes, because she doesn’t even want to wear her own clothes. Next, she declared that everyone was a liar and went around the circle pointing, “you’re a liar, and you’re a liar.” Luckily, I seem to have missed this bullet. After going around the table, she pointed at me and goes “except that one, she’s not a liar.” It was slightly unclear if she was talking about me or the rabbit, but I’m gonna take the W on that one.
Throughout this rant I was doing my hardest not to laugh. Even though it is definitely comical, Grandma was clearly getting frustrated so I was trying to take it seriously. But then she delivered her final verdict and I couldn’t contain myself. After going on and on about how everyone’s a liar and keeping secrets, she pushed her plate away grumpily and declared “but the food is good so I’m happy.”
At this, I could no longer hold my laughter in and Gram started laughing too, because she knew she had said something funny. Surprised at her own comment, she seemed to snap out of whatever funk she had been in and is now cheerfully helping Pops with the dishes. At 91, it’s impossible to fault her these little tiffs. In fact, at 23 I just threw a similar tantrum for no apparent reason a few days ago, so really who I am to judge?
One thing is for sure though, living with Grandma continually proves to be an unexpected adventure.