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June 06, 2011

When grandma 5's

Remember when you were a baby and there was always the crazy lady that wanted to interact with you? She'd try to give you a high five and you'd just look at her like, “Uh huh. I don't know you crazy lady.” Then she's like, “You know grandma.” And in your little baby mind your thinking, “Oh! You know grandma? Why didn’t you say so?  I'm still not givin you five.” Then you’d turn and rub your face with some dirt.

I witnessed these events unfold at my daughter’s softball game last week. At first I was on the grandma’s side thinking, “God damn, is this 2 year old a little bastard or what?  Just bitch slap him for being too young to know any better grandma!” Then I thought, “Wow this grandma has some nerve.  This kid doesn’t know his favorite comic book character, which shoe goes on which foot, or his favorite pornstar. Let alone knowing that a hand rifling at his face means; you better put yours up or grandma 5’s is gonna gitch ya.”


The series of events went down in a no hitter for grandma like one thrown by Roger Clemens in the steroid years.  (I just lost every woman on that reference. Google it.)  Grandma didn’t have a chance. Nothing says, “You little mother fucker you just left me hanging in front of 33 people, give me 5 or I’ll whip your ass” better than the look on grandma 5’s face.  The baby respectfully put the sucker he had just dropped into a pile of dirt and ants back into his mouth, tipped his cap and went on playing how dirty can I get my pants today?  Grandma was however relentless.


She looked up to the audience that was now watching her put on her “happy” face and said, “Oh. Heh, heh.  He’s so cute.”  We all knew poor little Johnny would be getting the shitty grandma 5’s gift later that year for Christmas for this one incident. Little Johnny doesn’t but we all know a woman forgets but she never forgives. 


Maybe it’d be a knitted sweater or a t-shirt with grandma 5’s face printed on it.  I don’t think so. Not grandma 5’s.  Her tolerance for pain let you know that a crappy article of clothing that would soon be tossed to pile would not be enough.  She’d get you a gift you’d have to use.  A gift so daring even Evel Knievel would be scared to jump it.


She’d fly in your Aunt from out west.  You know the one.  The one with all of the cheek pinches and the undetermined amount of kisses you could think of.  When it was your turn to get a gift from grandma 5’s she’d just say, “SURPRISE!”  Then all you would end up with is two bruised cheeks, numb lips, and a family full of people thinking the same thing. Should have gave her that high 5 you little bastard.