Time to sack nana

What nana likes lollies and ice creams and puddings, buys her granddaughter lollipops, fights with her mother in restaurants and plays on her phone? And oh, her password to her phone is easy. Sounds like one that needs the sack – at least it would do, if it wasn’t referring to me.

This is part of the transcript that my seven-year-old granddaughter produced, along with a picture, at school.  

When one sees themselves portrayed through the lens of another, it can be eye-opening. Willow did note that my favourite thing at the beach is to gather seaweed and that she loves me very much so at least my actions are not all setting a bad example. Whew.

In my defence, fighting with her mother at the restaurant refers to the times we have been dining out together. I have had to adapt to sneaky ways to pay the bill, like pretending to use the toilet half way through the meal, only to be spied removing my credit card from my bag. At our last shared dinner, Willow ran to her mother’s aid and grabbed my card as I was about to swipe the eftpos. Sometimes she holds my arms, preventing me from getting my purse. We always fight about who should pay, each wanting to take the tab. My girlfriend and I used to do the same thing on our overseas trip years ago, but we eventually came to a truce and decided ahead of any transaction who would foot the bill.

I was actually surprised at Willow’s accuracy, in her class story. She really did have me sussed. She talked about me buying her little dog kennels. These were plastic toys that came with a few miniscule bits of chewing gum. Each of these was different, so of course we had to buy another one each time she was staying. Willow loves her animals. And I think the lollipops could be attributed to Stephen. He is the one to cave in more easily.

I have often been called naughty nana, by the family, as I have a tendency to do naughty things. There is a game that the kids play where they place their hands and feet on different coloured circles. I love to take over the controls and twist them into little knots – far more fun than using the spinning dial to decide where each limb should go.

And on one trip to my Australian grandchildren, my son gave me the name of nanarea, after I had a period of diarrhoea. The kids thought that was a great joke. ‘’Nanarea is at it again.’’

I suppose the portrayal in Willow’s story could have been worse. My vices - my lollies, cakes and puddings and a tendency to fight with her mother in restaurants. At least she didn’t bring up my driving language when idiots cross my path!