“It was purely coincidence that I found a great deal on tickets to a certain animated rodent’s kingdom the first weekend the girls spent with a woman I now called ‘The Other One.’”
BY ROSE PADRICK
As the only local grandma to our four-year-old twin granddaughters, I enjoyed my role of “Spoiler At Large,” as opposed to the “Holiday and Summer” grandma. Everything was going along swimmingly—until she moved back to town, into a house boasting a big blue pool. It was purely coincidence that I found a great deal on tickets to a certain animated rodent’s kingdom the first weekend the girls spent with a woman I now called “The Other One.”
Dueling grandmas – The game is on!
On our way to the princess castle, the girls reported water volleyball, swimming races, cannon balls, no naps, and scores of hot dogs and s’mores. I silently thanked my husband for us not buying a house with a pool, and grinned, just a little, when I imagined how tired The Other One must have been after her weekend with the girls.
Grinning was far from what I was doing after we toured the castle four times, rode the tea cups seven times, stood in line for at countless hours, and feasted on $5 hot dogs, $3 waters, and $4 ice creams. My back was threatening total strike as I carried one sleeping twin into the house, followed by her mother carrying the other, mumbling comments about crazy old ladies trying to buy love they already had.
Somebody cry “foul”
Two weeks later, headed to the county fair for more rides and more hot dogs, the girls bubbled about orcas and how many times The Other One went down the water park slide holding both of them. Their admission that they may have cried just a little (translation; temper tantrums in stereo) when she only permitted one soda and one ice cream elicited that silly grin again, but hearing that The Other One had to limp back to the car elicited sympathy, if only for a brief moment.
We both may have ended up in the hospital had we not gotten confused over whose weekend it was.
Coming face-to-face with the enemy
Arriving almost simultaneously, almost equally battered and bruised, we looked to my daughter as to who was going to win the day with the twins and were told we would have to work it out—she had coupons to a local spa and she was late for the “Ladies Day” she enjoyed every weekend, while we skirmished over the girls.
Eventually, my daughter shoved the coupons into our hands, and ordered both of us to go to the spa—together. A short while later, relaxing ankle deep in a warm foot bath The Other One turned her green-mud-encased face to me and uttered what was to become my favorite word ever: “Truce?”
Clinking my glass of slightly alcohol-infused, cleansing beverage against her upheld one I replied, “Truce . . . and by the way, what IS your name?”
Rose Padrick writes a column called “Rose’s Room” that appears in the Port Saint John Happenings newspaper, and her current project is a series of children’s books. She’s the proud grandmother of a brood of eighteen grandchildren.
