What a Big Mouth You Have!

“Grandma! I’ve come to visit you! I hope you don’t mind, I let myself in. It’s such a long journey through the woods to get here. And you know me, I have to stop and sniff every daisy and lick the bark of every tree. I’m in school a lot more now since I’m 8, and can’t always experience the fun of true childhood these days. So I need to get in all the nature I can.

“I even met a new friend along the way. A tall guy, and sooooo hairy! He said he liked my coat, you know how red it is? I told him I got it at Target. It was really my mom who bought it, but I wanted to sound mature since I’m 8 now.

“Should I just stand here at the door or can I come in?”

“Come in, come in, my child! Take off your inedible rubber boots and your indigestible plastic coat and come sit by your grandma at her bedside. I’ve got something I want to show you.”

“If it’s those pictures from you and Grandpa in Kentucky again you showed them to me last week.”

“No, it’s… different pictures. From a… different trip I took with your grandpa.”

“That sounds boring. Can I have a cookie while I’m in the kitchen? I can reach them myself, if I stand on my tippee-toesie-wozzy-woozies and stretch my hand allllllllllllll the way… eerrrgh—”

“You can have a cookie.”

“I’ve already got one. I knew you’d say yes. Because you’re the best grandma ever. Where’s your phone? Do you still have games on it? The one with the slot machines?”

“It’s in the bedroom with me, Sweetie. Come sit by my bed and I’ll let you play all the games you want.”

“You must be going crazy Grandma, because I just found it! It was on the counter next to the cookies and that sticky red stuff. It tastes like… like… like rust. Like when the water breaks and comes out all brown. What is it?”

“It’s not blood, if that’s what you think. Definitely not. It’s a cooking spice.”

“Which one?”

“Uhhhh… MSG. Now, come in here and sit next to Grandma.”

“No offense, but whatever you put that spice in must taste awful. Eerrrgh… Your cookieths don’th, tho. They tasth greath.”

“Where are your manners, Young Lady?”

“Thank you, Grandma.”

“You’re welcome. Now, come into my room, dearie.”

“One second. I want some milk, too. Wow! You sure don’t have very much in your fridge! What is this? This looks so gross! Quin-o-a? Ew! This looks like gravel vomit! Grandma, you should be eating, like, steak or something. Grown up food! More meat!”

“I’m trying to get more meat in my diet, Dearie, and if you just come over here, you can help Grandma with that.”

“There’s no meat in here, Grandma, I can’t bring you anything. Do you at least have pizza rolls in the freezer? Mom and Dad always have pizza rolls in the freezer. Ugh. More vegetables. Grandma, seriously, your food needs rizz.”

“What does that mean? Grandma’s not hip to the lingo you kids use these days.”

“It sucks, Grandma. It means your food sucks.”

“That’s not very nice. I thought I taught you better manners. Get your milk and come sit with Grandma.”

“Do you have any real milk? All these say “soy,” and “almond.” Did you hear me read those words? I’m reading at grade level!”

“Congratulations, Deary.”

“Most American kids are two or three grades below that. Reading “almond” makes me smarter than lots of people!”

“Don’t brag, Deary. That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“Sorry. But it is true.”

“Look, Sweetie, if you’re so good at reading, why don’t you grab a book from the shelf and come read to Grandma? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“Bad eyes, huh? Does that mean I’m going to get bad eyes when I’m super, duper, super old like you? Is that my fate? I’ll need glasses forever?”

“I’m afraid it is, Honey.”

“Nooooooo! Well, I guess it’s better than being a boy. Where are the glasses?”

“My bedside table.”

“Not your false teeth glass, gross Grandma! I mean clean glasses. For my milk.”

“Uhh… I’m not sure.”

“You don’t remember? You don’t remember where the glasses are in your own house? Jeez Grandma, you really are going crazy!”

“You’re right. I’m going crazy. I’m your crazy grandma. Now get your milk and your cookie and come sit next to me.”

“I can have another cookie? Okay! Eerrrgh… Wait, I don’t want this one. Eerrrgh… Okay, got the phone, got the book, got the milk… I don’t have enough hands, Grandma!”

“Use your pockets.”

“Right! My pockets. Phone in, book… book doesn’t fit in my pocket, so put it in my moff, now I gab milg an whookie— oops, I dropped the book. I’ll kick it along the floor. Okay, I’m coming Grandma!

“Grandma, you were right. What big eyes you have!”

“The better to see you with, Deary. Come closer, don’t stand in the door frame like that.”

“Why not?”

“You’re leering.”

“What does that mean?”

“Lurking. Hovering. You’re just… there. Come here. There’s a spot for you right next to the bed.”

“Grandma, what big ears you have! Sorry, I had to say it. They seem bigger than usual. When you showed me those pictures last week, you had normal looking ears.”

“The better to hear you eating me out of house and home, Deary. I know you ate that third cookie, the one you said you didn’t want.”

“It was broken! It was, like, a quarter of a cookie. Smaller. An eighth. A sixteenth!”

“You’re reading at grade level and you know what a sixteenth is?”

“In math, I’m at high school freshman level. They’re letting me try out for the math team next year. I’m going to be the youngest mathlete in Grimm High School history.”

“That’s very good Deary! Come a little closer so I can give you a congratulatory kiss.”

“Bleh! Your kisses are always so slobbery! I feel like I get drenched with the hose!”

“How about a handshake, then?”

“Okay. Grandma! What hairy hands you have!”

“You know, I’m getting real sick of your comments, Red. I know you’re a child and all—”

“I’m not a child, I’m 8!”

“Then as an adult—”

“I’m a pre-pre-teen.”

“As a pre-pre-teen, you should know it’s rude to comment on someone’s appearance. Or their height or weight, or the amount of hair on their body. Say something nice once in a while, but you don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, you know?”

“Then you shouldn’t assume I want to be kissed, Grandma. My body is my own. And I don’t like being touched very much.”

“Thank you for stating your wishes. I’m proud of you, communicating like an adult instead of hiding behind deception. Very honorable. Now, how about that handshake?”

“Grandma, what big— Aaaahh!”

“Betsy, your handsome and loving husband is home! Give me one of your big, sloppy kisses before Red gets here and starts up with the grade level reading shi— great heavens! You’re that wolf who’s been following us since our trip to Kentucky! And your stomach is swollen in the silhouettes of my dear wife and precocious granddaughter!”

“My, what a large ax you have!”

“The better to perform emergency surgery with!”

“Awooo!”

“Oh, thank you, Joe! Let’s get married all over again, in Vegas this time instead of Atlantic City.”

“I consent to your sloppy smooches from now until forever.”

“And you, Miss Granddaughter! You couldn’t tell me apart from that hairy oaf? Does my hand look like a damn dog’s paw?”

“Sorry, Grandma.”

“You think my food has no rizz?! My Jello casserole has plenty of rizz. More rizz than whatever you cook in the shoddy Easy-Bake oven of yours! Thank you for saving us, Joe.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

“You’re both welcome. Now, who wants wolf steaks?”