We like the school year. It’s an ideal situation for grandparents who are pleased to tend to the kiddos in measured and predictable ways. We enjoy transporting them to and from day care and classes, keeping them for the occasional day or sleepover, and allowing them to watch age-appropriate TV (but not use the remote).
Structure is important (for the old folks, anyway).
We take joy in engaging the youngsters in sparkling conversations before class (“Did you remember your blankie?” “Ummm.”) and after (“What did you do in recess?” “Nuthin’.”)
We can go over homework assignments to help their academic progress (“I remember when I was about your age, maybe a little younger, and [insert rambling discourse here].”) And they appreciate that, really they do. Later on, their parents and teachers will have to grill them on where they got their information, but that’s not our problem.
School provides delightfully rigid schedules, which, between drop-off and pick-up, allows us to take naps when the young scholars are in class and pondering polynomials.
This only works about three-quarters of the year, however. Children of all ages get this absurdly long period of vacation, much more than grownups, and that is not, to me, a particularly good use of instruction. They should be taught what it’s like in real life by having year-round classes, with only the occasional (by which I mean infrequent) break for important occasions and select holidays. They need to learn budgeting, proper decorum when addressing their elders, sewing, job interview skills, typing (with all fingers), understanding that Social Security is not an entitlement … you get the idea. There’s plenty of time to teach these essentials if schools would only stay open all year.
Summer, a word too-often paired with “vacation,” does present its own delights, like unbearable heat, too many scoops of ice cream and resultant sticky fingers, an abundance of mosquitoes, sunburn — oh, you’re a grandparent, you’ve known about all this for decades if not centuries. It’s why hair turns gray.
And you also know that three months of force-fed activities, even educational ones, are difficult to arrange, both for parents and grandparents. On the one hand, the parents plot to turn the kids over to the grandparents for extended periods. On the other hand, the seniors are forced to plan trips they don’t really want to go on in order to avoid endless days of entertaining the children. Now these precious descendants are very much loved, mind you, but even the most patient grand will find it a strain to spend consecutive days helping dig up worms and stepping on Legos. Tea parties are the worst, since you have to partake in awkward conversations with various dolls, dragons, and dinosaurs, none of whom are agreeable conversationalists, although the clever child will be able to perform all the roles at the table. Also, there’s no tea, unless you make it, but you can’t make it too hot.
One advantage of the summer months are summer camps, which are lifesavers, and worth the extra savings accounts you have to fund. If that’s out of reach, then you’re on your own to do the most economical pastime: backyard adventures. It might take some doing, but if, say, you have a portion of your yard that needs attention, then all you have to do is convince your young charges that there is important excavation that needs to be done. You can prime them with some music (if your brain is not overly numbed, find this Blippi character, who is all over social media, and play his hit “The Excavator Song”) and in no time your grands will be primed. Give them some not-too-sharp garden tools, promise them treasure (toss a couple of quarters into the mix) and point them to the golden patch and you will soon have them digging up all manner of things, like rocks and weeds, sticks and pinecones, and maybe even clearing out some of that pesky poison ivy, although life lessons and calamine will likely ensue.
Remember: you are contributing to family lore with stories that will be passed down through the generations and remembered fondly, even with the occasional spell of psychogenic pruritus (fake itching).
It’s all about making the most of those lazy months that could be so much more productive if only we made children go to school all year long. Until then, plan carefully and be ready to attend some tea parties and enjoy a few mud pies.