My son brings his children over to our house every weekend, whenever he can. One girl is eleven now, the other is six, and theyre both generally well-behaved. On weekends, they like to sleep in, and then my wife and I help them with their homework, take them out for walks, sometimes to the shops. Not too often though, because when we do head to the supermarket, the girls always find something to grab and start stomping their feet, demanding we buy it with whatevers left in our wallets.
Even if my wife goes to the shop alone, the girls hand over a shopping list covered in sweets. I try to explain to them that they cant have everything, and theyll settle for chocolate bars or lollies, but if my wife forgets to get them something, a tantrum quickly follows. The older one always kicks off, and the younger follows suit with tears and yelling.
Its nice to encourage children to try new things, and its hard not to spoil them with treats, but all those sweets are dreadful for their teeth. Still, its tough raising them without a bit of chocolate now and then.
I was quite cross in the kitchen after my wife managed to calm the girls down and settle them in front of the telly.
I get rewarding them for a good mark at school, thats fair enough, but giving them sweets just for getting through their homework is a bit much. They have to do it five days a week. Oh, dont be so harsh, my wife replied. Our parents liked to spoil us too. Yes, but not every single day! Times were different then, but my dad always brought me a chocolate bar from work, she said. Of course he did, I muttered, he worked at the chocolate factory, they handed them out for free.
But there was only ever one bar. Wed share it with everyone, and it still made us happy. It was practically a daily treat, and we looked forward to it. Our grandchildren expect the same, maybe even more, but parents and grandparents must spoil kids a bit, its only natural. Spoiling them is fine, but it should be sensible. They dont respect us at allif they dont get their sweets they throw about complaints, saying were not as good as mum and dad.
My wife just shrugged, as if there was nothing to worry about.
Its not really about sweets. They simply dont have much respect. Its just their age. We have to work on their manners and attitude towards adults, and I dont believe that sweets, or the lack of them, will really fix anything.As I watched the girls giggling at cartoons, I wondered if the struggle was really about sweets at all. When the youngest skipped over and asked for a cuddle, sticky fingers and all, I wiped chocolate from her cheek and felt a warmth I hadn’t noticed in years. Their demands, tantrums, messesthey weren’t signs of disrespect, but of trust, of knowing wed always be here. I glanced at my wife, who smiled, knowing just what I was thinking.
Later that afternoon, after homework and another lively walk, we all sat together with cups of tea and a plate of biscuitsless sugar, but enough sweetness. The girls began to recount their week, sharing secrets, petty quarrels, little victories. The older one, perhaps feeling grown-up, leaned in and whispered, Grandpa, I think I dont really care for the lollies after all. I like it best when you tell us stories.
In that moment, I felt the quiet relief of knowing the relationship, not the treats, was the reward. Chocolate bars melt and disappear, but laughter, stories, and love linger. So, I made a promise to myself: every visit, Id offer a little something sugarybut always serve up a much greater feast, the kind made of tales, affection, and patience.
That evening, as the girls waved goodbye and my son thanked us, I realized we werent raising children just by spoiling them, or by withholding sweets, but by loving themjust as wed always wanted. And as the door closed behind them, my wife nudged me. Tomorrow, she whispered, we buy extra biscuits. But youd better come prepared with your best story. I grinned. The sweetest things, in the end, were never found at the shop.
