"Am I a boring grandma?"
I kept asking myself that question more and more.
Every Friday, Jake (7) and Emma (4) come over. My daughter has to work, and I watch them.
I used to look forward to it. But lately... I felt like I couldn't keep up anymore.
"Grandma, can we play tag?" Jake called out the moment he walked through the door.
We headed out to the backyard. I ran with them. But after ten minutes, I felt my knees. My back. I had to take a break.
"Grandma, you're done already?" he said, disappointed.
Inside, Emma wanted to build a fort. We'd done it a few times before — blankets, pillows, chairs. But crouching in that tight space, bending down, sitting in there with them? I just can't anymore.
Twenty minutes later, they were both sitting there, bored.
Jake sighed. Emma looked at me with those big eyes.
Maybe I really have become boring to them. I just can't keep up like I used to.
I stood there, helpless. What was I supposed to do with them? I couldn't think of anything.
So I reached for the tablet.
"Just half an hour," I said — more to myself than to them.
They took it without hesitation.
But inside, that guilt was gnawing at me. I just couldn't keep up anymore. And the tablet? That had become my only solution.