There’s a special place in hell reserved for grandparents who don’t recognize their grandchildren.
As a grandparent, you get all the benefits of a child with zero drawbacks. Nobody expects anything from you. You don’t have to wake up at 3 am with a gasp because there’s a child standing very close to your face and breathing on you noisily. You don’t have to pack endless lunch boxes or pick up small objects for an hour each day. And you don’t have to be brought to the brink of a heart attack once a week by performing the terrible feat of nail-trimming.
No, as a grandparent you are long past all that. All you have to do is smile beatifically and be adored. And still some perverse individuals weasel out of it.
And no, I’m not talking about Biden. I’m talking about the much more egregious case of my own child’s grandmother. And it’s much more egregious because A) I’m not a drug-addled prostitute and B) she has no other grandchildren.
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