Look out Grandma, here I come ~ April 9, 1987

David Heiller 

My wife and I have been trying to sell our son on staying with his Grandma Olson ever since Noah brought the idea up two months ago.

We had been visiting there, and Noah had enjoyed the fruits of the labor of a grandmother who has only two grandchildren, the oldest of whom is Noah. In other words, he’s had a darn good time with Grandma.

Noah and Grandma (Lorely Olson)

Grandmas who live in Suburbia have the keys to a wonderful world for a three-year-old. First there are the shopping malls, which have stores that sell nothing but toys for children. Grandma Olson is on a first name basis with every toy store clerk in Brooklyn Center. She can walk through Brookdale blindfolded.

Grandma also knows about stores that are gigantic amusement parks for kids. They are like toy stores with the packages already opened. Gigantic trampolines, rooms with padded walls and huge balls to bounce off other kids. Children love them. So do parents who want to farm out their kids to Grandma for a day and a night.

So when Noah said he’d like to stay with Grandma all by himself, overnight, we backed him all the way. In fact, we were almost ready to buy him a bus ticket. But when my wife suggested to him that he could ride to Grandma’s house with our friend, Carla, Noah balked. His bold word seemed hollow as he faced the prospects of leaving his mother and father for a ride to Minneapolis to stay with his grandmother.

So for the next two months, we worked on Noah. “Boy, wouldn’t it be fun to stay with Grandma Olson for a day?” we would ask.

Noah and Malika with Grandma O.

“Yes, but you have to stay with me,” Noah would 
answer.

“That’s not the same,” we would say. “Just think of the things you could do, go to Circus-Circus and toy stores, and watch Dumbo on the VCR.”

“Yes, but you have to come with me,” Mr. Yes-But would answer.

This stand-off lasted until Monday of this week. Grandma Olson called on that day and had a suggestion. “Tell him that when he comes to visit with you, he never gets to do all that fun stuff because he is always with you, but if he comes alone, he’ll be able to because he will be alone with me.”

We relayed the message to Noah. “Yes, but you have to come with me,” he echoed.

“But that’s just it, Noah, if we come with, you won’t be able to do those things.”

Grandma Olson, Noah and Malika.
No smiles allowed!

Noah looked at me, like a young Yossarian. This was his first Catch-22. I had him on the ropes, so I tried a sales trick of my own.

“You can go down with Carla, or you can go down with me. Which would you prefer?” I asked.

“I’ll go down with you,” he said, taking the bait.

Cindy had listened to this interchange from behind Noah. She smiled and signaled for me to cut the conversation. We had bargained enough concessions, and like a true labor organizer; she didn’t want to press the luck.

Tuesday morning, we asked Noah about the trip to Grandma’s. He stuck to his guns. He even called her on the telephone to give her the good news. He also informed her that they were going to the zoo. That was his bargaining demand, I guess. By the time he gets there on Friday, he will probably be asking for box seats to the Twins game and a new three wheeler. But I’m sure that Grandma can handle that, and I think Noah can too. They’ll work something out.

As for Cindy and me, we’ll stay home with our youngest daughter. We’ll try to celebrate, to hug and kiss a little. But more likely we’ll lie awake and worry about our son’s first night away from Mom and Dad.