Still Grammy After All These Years

Mother's Day, of course, meant a visit to my mother and longtime blog subject The Grammy at the aptly named Queen Anne Nursing Home. Kathleen bravely accompanied me--bravely, because you never know what is going to come out of The Grammy's mouth.

We found her dressed(!) and in a wheelchair by the nursing station, so we wheeled her into a nicely appointed parlor near the front door. I reintroduced her to Kathleen.

"You look so young," The Grammy told Kathleen. So far so good. "What did you bring me, Paul?"

"I have a nice Mother's Day card..."

"I don't want any card. I want something to eat. Something sweet."

"What if I hadn't brought anything?" I complained while opening a bakery box. "I'd feel terrible."

"Well, I'd feel worse." She seized the eclair and bit off about half.

"I brought you some pictures of John and me. We went fishing together down south."

The Grammy looked at Kathleen. "John was the good son," she explained. The eclair was now history.

"What?" protested Kathleen. "Paul wasn't a good son, too?"

"Well, some of the time," she admitted, snaring the cannolo. "But he liked girls older than himself."

"And John was always good?"

"Well, until he started hanging around with Paul. Then he became a wise guy."

The Grammy had finished the cannolo and found the last remaining pastry in the box, a tart.

"Mum," I cautioned her, "that one has a strawberry with green leaves still on it. You shouldn't eat those."

"Huh? You can eat the green part." And she did.