Chapter 4 - “Grandma’s Rules” Started as a Joke
The first conflict happened when Ellie was sixteen months old.
Food throwing.
Normal toddler phase.
Linda hated it.
One afternoon I arrived home and saw Ellie sitting in her high chair.
No tray.
Crying.
Linda stood at the sink.
“What happened?”
“She threw food.”
“Okay.”
“So lunch is over.”
“Fine.”
“How long ago?”
“Twenty minutes.”
I frowned.
“Why is she still sitting there?”
“Because she needs to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That throwing food has consequences.”
I unbuckled Ellie.
Linda looked offended.
“You just taught her crying works.”
“She’s sixteen months old.”
“Exactly when you teach them.”
We argued lightly.
Not a war.
That evening I told Ben:
“Your mom leaves her in the chair too long when she misbehaves.”
He laughed.
“Mom put me in time-out constantly.”
“You survived.”
“Clearly.”
I smiled despite myself.
Bad ending.
The second conflict:
Ellie grabbed Linda’s glasses.
Linda slapped the back of Ellie’s hand.
Not hard enough to leave:
anything.
I saw it.
“Don’t hit her hand.”
Linda stared.
“I tapped it.”
“I don’t want you doing that.”
“She needs to associate grabbing with no.”
“Then say no.”
Linda rolled her eyes.
“She’s going to run you ragged.”
I told Ben.
His response:
“She did that with us.”
Again.
History offered as:
permission.
Then something subtler happened.
Linda started using the phrase:
Grandma’s rules.
At Grandma’s house:
no food outside kitchen.
Fine.
No whining for snacks.
Less fine.
No getting up from the table until excused.
Rigid for a toddler, but not dangerous.
No toys after a tantrum.
No cuddling immediately after hitting because “that rewards it.”
I hated that one.
But Linda was not physically hurting:
her.
I told myself:
different generations.
Different styles.
Ellie loved her too.
That complicated things.
She ran to Linda some mornings.
Brought her books.
Asked for:
“Gamma.”
Children can love adults who also make them uncomfortable.
Adults use love as proof of safety far too often.
May you like
I did.
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