You send them to the Grandparents for a few days, and you miss ‘em like crazy.
You can’t WAIT to pick them up, knowing that they’ll run to you, jump into your arms, and hug you, showering their undying affection upon you.
Then you arrive, and you are quickly reminded of The Grandparent Effect.
It’s not purposeful on the Grandparent’s part, but any child being the center of attention and running the joint for a few days can’t help but curdling into the most spoiled of states.
Their attitudes smell even worse than those sippy cups of milk that you find underneath the sofa – the ones that you have to shake over the sink with a vehement force to make the solid lump of milk turn loose and jiggle it’s putrid way down the drain, all while you attempt mashing it up with a fork to help it squeeze through.
When kids under the influence of The Grandparent Effect arrive back into real life where Mommy has to do other things besides playing all day…like, say, go to the grocery store or, heaven forbid, take a bath, their jiggly curdledness shakes loose on a regular basis.
They pout. They whine. They fall, severely ungracefully, from their perch atop their Cherished Grandchildren Thrones.
But Noah – well, he got much less loot.
And he is officially now old enough to experience, for the first time ever, The Grandparent Effect.
He came home with a newly learned expression of curdled disgust when I don’t do exactly what he desires.
Then, if I’m not compliant, it progresses to this…
And then, if I still choose to disobey, I receive it.
The Ultimate Look of Shun.
Menacing, isn’t he?
Even Jiggly and Curdled and under the complete influence of The Grandparent Effect, he still makes me want to kiss those big, fat, angry lips.