Just don’t tell Mommy…

I have a big secret.

One that makes me a super/great/cool grandma, but a horrible/scoundrel mother.

This morning I picked up my grandson from pre-school. (No, this is not the horrible thing.)

I guess I should give a bit of background information. Audrey asked if I could possibly pick up William from pre-school.

I said, “Sure.”

She said, “Now, he will ask to play on the playground afterwards… but he can’t.”

I innocently asked, “Why not?”

She said, “Because he had a little problem this morning with listening to me, and I had to take away something that he loves. Like the playground after school.”

“OK,” I said. But I didn’t really give a hoot about the listening thing because it wasn’t ME he didn’t listen to.

So… this morning I picked up my grandson at pre-school. He came bounding out of his classroom and into my waiting arms. He had papers and paintings that he couldn’t wait to show me. His hair was all sweaty from, as he said, “Running faster than a cougar.” He asked if we were getting something to eat. He put his little hand in mine. We left the building.

Then he said, “Can I play on the playground?”

OK. Balance of powers. Tug-of-war. Right from wrong.

As wrong as wrong can be… I said, “Sure.”

My wise eyes caught the brilliant blue of his. Then he squinted in that precious way he does when a thought engages his mind. “But, Grandma… didn’t Mommy say…”

Of course my thought process went something like this… “Why, oh beautiful daughter, have I forsaken your demands?” as I uttered the utterly scandalous, “Just don’t tell Mommy.”

Oh, he hesitated. For a nano second. Then he broke into a cougar-like run with me right behind him (well, maybe me more in a cougar-like limp) toward the playground, where we romped and climbed and, well, played.

It is only now that the deed is done that I pose to myself this unsettling query: Am I bad?

Well, if I am, I guess Audrey already knows – or will when she reads this. (Sorry, honey!)

- Sharon