Vengeance is Gramma’s

The following was written before I even became a Gramma. It was a good thing I had the foresight to plan ahead, I became a Gramma soon after this.

When times are stressful around the house and the teenagers and tweeners and tots are driving us crazy, my husband and I like to plot our sweet revenge on our kids when they are married and living in their homes; homes we assume they will keep immaculately clean and tidy. Even though we know that we won’t actually follow through, the ability to laugh and play gives us the relief we need. It also is enough threat to the kids that they are either going to straighten up or they better not invite us to their homes when they are older.

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So far, some of our favorite strategies are as follows:

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*We will dump the entire silverware container from the dishwasher randomly into the silverware drawer. “Hmm. I thought that’s the way you wanted it done. That’s the way you always did it at my house.”

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*We will take all the tools from the well-stocked tool bench and brilliantly hide them like plastic eggs at an Easter Egg hunt. “Oh, when did you stop keeping tools in the grass so they could rust? That’s where you ALWAYS kept them at my house. Oh, you don’t bury them in the sandbox anymore, either ? Oh, you don’t keep them in the kids’ toy box? Hmmm.. So sorry.”

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*We will take a half eaten apple and hide it under the bed, anxiously waiting to figure out how long the “Science experiment” will take to hatch enough mold or maggots, whichever comes first.

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*We will terroristically track which bathroom our adult child is going to use, and just before they use it, we will remove the toilet paper. This has to occur consistently for at least three days to be sufficient. To be totally successful, we will have to make a lot of noise with the rest of the family or get everyone outside, “HMM, did you hear the ice cream truck?” to ensure nobody hears the frantic and muffled call from behind the finger-smeared door, “Could someone please bring me a roll of toilet paper?”

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*All of our dirty laundry will go in the closet they provide, on the floor, of course, and we will ask them to wash and rewash all the freshly washed clothes, still folded and piled neatly. We’ll make sure we ask the night before we leave, so they will have to stay up all night washing, drying and folding.

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*For sure, we will always leave just less than two tablespoons of whatever liquid that is left in the container and put the WHOLE thing back in the fridge. Of course, we will have to innocently proclaim that we thought there was enough for another whole glass.

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*Whenever I need a pen, I will make sure I take it from my adult child’s purse or desk. In fact, just in case I need extra, I will take all of the pens they have each time.

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*While I’m in the purse, if I think I need a piece of gum, I will chew whatever is left in the pack –especially if it is a whole pack – especially if that little tab hasn’t been pulled and twisted around the pack releasing those tempting bursts of peppermint. Mmm…and, after I chew the whole pack, I will leave half the wrappers in the purse, half in my pocket to be shredded in the wash to delightly freshen the scent of the dryer lint, and park the chewed gum in the fridge.

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*I PROMISE FROM THIS DAY FORWARD I WILL USE EVERY PAIR OF SCISSORS I FIND IN EVERY CHILD’S HOUSE AND USE THEM TO CUT WIRE HANGERS, TIN CANS, AND THEN I WILL HAND THEM TO MY GRANDCHILDREN AND TEACH THEM TO CUT THEIR OWN HAIR AND MAKE CONFETTI WITH THE MOST IMPORTANT LOOKING MAIL ON THE COUNTER. JUST FOR GOOD MEASURE, I WILL MAKE SURE THAT THEY UNDERSTAND IF YOU CUT ANYWHERE ON ANYTHING THAT WAS KNITTED OR CROTCHETED, YOU GET A DOUBLE THRILL BECAUSE YOU CAN CUT AND THEN UNRAVEL.

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*Markers. Hmm. I can hardly wait to buy all my grandchildren markers, and I will never buy them washable. I will teach them how to write their initials, so they can autograph each wall, new curtain and important leather bound books they can find. We will make tattoos on each other for hours on end.

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*I will teach all my grandchildren to sniff out candy like a hound dog and tell them eating it really doesn’t ruin their appetites, just look at their parents! We will hide bags of Skittles under each grandchild’s pillow so they can have sugar anytime they want and think fondly of Gramma and Grandpa.

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*If the child we are visiting invites any of their dear friends over for dinner when we are there, I will challenge their kids to a belching contest, and I will win.

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*No matter what my adult children cook me for dinner, I will wrinkle my nose in disgust, ask for something else, and then cry for a snack in the evening.

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*I will make sure that I consume at least two drinks and take two bathroom trips each night, shuffling loudly past their bedroom door. And, just at that right moment, precisely at that perfect moment, the timing of which all children have mastered, I will knock on their bedroom door and ask for something.

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*I will eat one piece out of every puzzle they own.

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*I will shove all my candy wrappers in between the couch cushions, along with all the extra pens I took and didn’t need. Of course, I will have to take the caps off first, and maybe bite all the way around the top of each pen. I WILL teach this trick to each of my grandchildren, as soon as they are old enough to eat candy and markers.

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*Every time they take me out to eat, I will ask for a to-go box for my leftovers. They will be slid under the seat of the car for safe-keeping for another mold-growing science experiment. If my conscience is bothering me a few weeks later, I might call them and remind them that I “forgot” it in there.

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*I will be helpful in always answering the phone for them. I won’t write down the message, because I know I’ll remember to tell them everything – weeks later.

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* In the light of keeping with the traditions they set as young children, I will have to crank their heaters up the minute the temperature drops a smidgen below 70 degrees. If I am too warm, I will use the temperature control panel that others call a window. If I get too cold, I will take all the blankets from the hall closet and pile them on my bed. The next morning I will roll each blanket in a ball and shove it on the top shelf, balanced precariously, so that the next person that dares to open that door will have a blanket avalanche on their head.

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So, after years of being a Momma, I finally am a Gramma. I’m going to enjoy it with a Veangeance.