My family is divided politically, with my parents voting one way and nearly everyone in my generation and younger voting another way. Debates can be tense, but so far they’ve remained mostly civil.

The family has gathered over the holidays, and the kids are playing an anagram-style word game. My dad walks into the room.

Dad: “You need to talk to your son about mudslinging.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Dad: “He just won that game they’re all playing by merging RED HAT into HATRED.”

Me: “…okay?”

Dad: “He’s being political.”

Me: “Dad, he’s nine. I doubt he’s trying to score political points against his grandfather.”

Dad: “Then why did he make those words spell that?”

Me: “It’s an anagram game! I think you need to figure out why you’re the one making that word association instead of projecting it onto your grandson, who is just playing a game.”

Dad: “I dunno… it just seems like some people in this family are using politics to turn us all against each other.”

Me: “So it’s the nine-year-old playing anagrams doing that? Not the retired guy who voted to defund his grandkids’ education so he could get cheaper eggs? Throw accusations of division around as much as you like, Dad, but be very careful pulling at that thread.”

Dad: “Bah! This whole family is against me!”

That was at Christmas. He was suddenly ‘busy and unavailable’ for New Year’s.

I’m about four years old, staying overnight at my grandparents’ house. I watch my grandpa take out his dentures before bed.

Four-Year-Old Me: *Stares, stunned.*

I immediately start poking around inside my own mouth.

Mom: “Sweetie… what are you doing?”

Four-Year-Old Me: “I’m trying to take my teeth out like Grandpa!”

Mom: “What are you looking for?”

Four-Year-Old Me: “The button to make them come out!

Yup. Four-year-old me was searching for the “release button” that must let my teeth pop out.

My mom laughed and explained what dentures were. I stop searching, but I do not stop being disappointed.

A customer brings in a skateboard to the returns desk.

Customer: “I need to return this.”

Me: “What was the issue with it?”

Customer: “It doesn’t go.”

Me: “Are there issues with the wheels?”

Customer: “Let me show you.”

He calls his son over, who the skateboard was originally for, and gets him to stand on it.

Customer: “See?”

Me: “See what?”

Customer: “It isn’t going.”

His son is just standing on it. Zero attempt to use a foot to push forward is being made.

Me: “Well, yeah?”

Customer: “Why isn’t it going?”

Me: “Because it isn’t Aladdin’s magic carpet.”

This story reminded me of my own grandma’s internet experience back in the day. My grandma is from India, so her spoken English is good, but she sometimes struggles with the finer points of written English.

She is an amazing cook and makes beautiful-looking dishes using traditional Indian ingredients, but plated like a fine dining restaurant (she said she was practising for western guests). I told her she should put some on her Facebook so all our relatives in India could see it.

She comes over to me, holding the iPad.

Grandma: “Beta (Indian term of endearment), why do all the comments say the same?”

She shows me her post with some photos of a beautiful meal. She has written the caption in both Hindi and English:

Caption: “When your really hungry!”

There were a couple of comments from relatives, mostly in mixes of English and Hindi, claiming how delicious it looked… and then about twenty comments from complete strangers:

Stranger #1: “You’re.”

Stranger #2: “You’re*.”

Stranger #3: “You’re!”

Stranger #4: “You’re not your. Learn English!”

Stranger #5: “You’re, not your. Your is a possessive adjective. It is always followed by a noun in a sentence. You’re is a contraction of two words, “you” and “are.” Contractions can be easily recognized by the apostrophe. This is not to be confused with…” *Cue nine paragraphs explaining deeper and increasingly more grammatical rules.*

Stranger #6: “You’re. Lol!”

Stranger #7: “You’re.”

Stranger #8: “You’re.”

And so on. Not one comment about the food. Just a repeat of the same.

That was the day I taught Grandma how to post and interact ONLY with people on her friends and family list.

Today, there was a grandma in our parking lot with a toddler out of his stroller. She was standing there texting while the baby walked around.

I was getting something out of my car, and I noticed how far away from her the kid was. I called out to her:

Me: “Hey! He’s getting away!”

She never looked up from her phone. 

I got my item out of my car, and the kid was now moving really fast, and another customer was yelling at her. She still never looked up from her phone. I tapped her shoulder.

Me: “The baby is too far away!”

She finally started after him, still not looking up from her phone.

When she got to him, she scolded him, which made the baby cry and lie down on the ground, very close to the driveway entrance.

She continued to tap away on the phone while the baby lay there in a tantrum.

I stopped to talk to the other customer. I then spotted the baby walk right into the driveway while Grandma Oblivious was still enraptured by her phone.

At this point, I stormed over to her:

Me: “Ma’am!….Ma’am!… Ma’am!”

I finally had to tap her shoulder vigorously, shouting:

Me: “You have to get out of the driveway! Cars drive in here really fast! This is dangerous!”

I got a mild response of:

Grandma Oblivious: “Oh… thank you…”

She did finally take the kid back to his stroller, scolding him all the while.

I sure wish I could find the baby’s parents to tell them grandma is not a suitable caregiver.