There is much ado about grandparents in the news this week, and the havoc they are apparently wreaking on the health of our offspring.
The new study cites that, far from being the parents who need educating about what to feed kids (and what not to), it is actually the grandparents.
It’s the parents who wind up at the end of their tiny tethers, being bossed about by militant beings
The sneaky, sweet-producing, tasty-morsel-proffering, grandparents.
My own mother is pretty good about what she feeds our girls, but then I was brought up that way too.
However, they do get treats when they’re with her, because what else are grandparents for?
To make parents look bad and undesirable, that’s what.
Everyone knows you get spoilt by your gran and grandad – they get to hand you back at the end of the day, so of course you get all the fun stuff.
It’s the parents who wind up at the end of their tiny tethers, being bossed about by militant beings of their own making, and resorting to gurning with frustration, or hiding behind walls silently muttering expletives and making rude gestures with their exhausted hands.
It’s also therefore the parents who see the most of their children, feed them the most meals, and take the responsibility for their offspring.
Surely therefore, if we are being honest, it’s the parents who take the most blame – and who need to educate their own folks, should they discover that little Billy is munching an entire pavlova for breakfast, followed by a litre of e-numbers, right before he bounces back off the walls and into mum and dad’s house.
Curiously, the study also cited that the grandparents were more or less the source of all that is toxic with our weight and health as a nation.
As well as snackage and vast portions of processed food, they are apparently damaging the health of the UK’s young with tobacco smoke.
The report I listened to didn’t elaborate further on the cigarette smoke aspect, but I am taking a wild guess that they mean grandparents are smoking around the kids, as opposed to actually forcing cigars and the like on them.
I HAVE SUCH VIVID MEMORIES OF MY OWN DEAR GRANDPARENTS
Grandparents have such a huge impact on our lives.
I’ve written often about my grandad, who stepped into my father’s shoes when he passed away when I was just 12.
I have such wonderful memories of all my grandparents. Being at my Grandma Carter’s house in Drayton, her eye-shadow and her Jack Russell, Jip.
The deep sadness of my mother when her father died,
and having a child’s confusion about what that really meant.
I recall, vividly, the spoiling and, which continued until my Grandma Carter’s death and often involved a trip to the corner shop with a pound in my pocket. And likewise the spoiling from my paternal grandparents.
You remember your grandparents forever.
DON’T BE FOOLED BY HUBBY’S ONCE-A-YEAR SPECTACULARS
My husband is busy in the kitchen this week.
This is an annual occurrence, not a weekly one.
And it is purely competitive.
His school hold a bake-off each year for Children In Need, and given the vast and ambitious structures that he has produced in the past, he takes the competition very seriously indeed.
This probably leads some to think that he must be quite the culinary genius around the oven, who whizzes up meals aplenty for myself and the children, nourishing us with his inventive recipes and sublime cuisine.
I say with some surety, he is not.
The rest of the year, the only ingredient or cooking events that my husband takes part in involve ba-con, not bak-ing.