Spinalectomy

It’s a little less than two months until Griffin’s sixth birthday, so we still have quite a ways to go before he finishes high school, college, medical school, and then gets married.  Still, I have this growing sense of dread about when he and his wife have their first child, because I know it will be time for Tamara and me to get our spinalectomy done.  This is apparently a process that every new grandparent undergoes in which the spinal column is removed so that the individual loses all ability to say ‘No’ to their grandchildren.

I had back surgery last year, and it was an unpleasant experience.  But I’m pretty sure this isn’t the same type of surgery.  I don’t recall my parents ever going into the hospital for it, yet the mountain of evidence is undeniable.  No request from the grandchildren is too large for them.  For instance,

My Boys: Pa, will you take us on a ride across the frozen tundra? 

My dad: Sure, Just let me go get the tractor warmed up!

Another example, 

Griffin: I want to sleep at your house.

Mammy: I’m sorry honey, you have school tomorrow.

Griffin (turning on the tears): But I just want to sleep at your house.

Mammy (to me): Let him spend the night.  I’ll take him to school tomorrow.

Maybe it’s not that they can’t say ‘No’, they just make it a personal challenge to never actually do it.  And I must admit that being at the grandparent’s house has a positive effect on them.  For some reason they will do things there that they won’t even attempt at home (like using the potty, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, etc.).

But if you think grandparents are peculiar in their ability to avoid the N-word, you haven’t seen anything yet.  I’m talking about Great-Grandparents here.  The other night, my grandmother watched the boys while we met with Griffin’s Kindergarten teacher.  When we made it back to her house, we saw the two kids playing outside in their long-sleeve shirts.  Upon going inside, we asked why they didn’t have their coats on.  Her answer was, “Well, they wanted to go outside, and they haven’t been out there very long.”  Then she proceeded to tell us, “They were hungry so I gave them a popsicle and some cookies.”  Why did she give them junk food?  Because that’s what they wanted.

I don’t know what process they go through that turns an adult from a responsible authoritarian into a weak-kneed grandparent, but it seems to be an almost universal rule of nature.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way…okay, maybe with a little less sweets right before bedtime, but other than that…