why my father-in-law is like a free steak knife.

This is not my father-in-law.

My father-in-law is probably what is known as old school. He is an adorable man, but his domestic skills are what might be called archaic basic. I’m not sure he has ever picked up a vacuum cleaner in his life, and he has been known to watch me drag in ten or so bags of heavy shopping, unpack them, unload the dishwasher and peel a bag of potatoes while peacefully reading the newspaper at the kitchen bench. A loving father, he has worked hard all his life supporting his family, but certainly he didn’t participate very actively in childminding, and I very much doubt he knew what a nappy was.

Fast forward a few decades and I am hiding at the Bear’s bedroom door listening to said traditionalist singing to my 2 year old. SINGING. And whispering and –god forbid – is that giggling I hear? Certainly I heard correctly when my 2 year old asked him to sit a while longer with him and ‘keep holding my hand granddad’. Bear had been mentally scarred by fireworks (bad parent #1) and was nervous about going to bed. I was all for letting him cry it out a bit (bad parent #2) but Granddad couldn’t bear to hear him suffer. On another recent occasion, Bear left his beloved and stinky Elephant behind at nursery. (Yes, Elephant is a stuffed Elephant cleverly called Elly – who would have guessed). Granddad couldn’t bear the thought of him having trouble going to sleep so he did a second one hour round trip to nursery to pick up Elly. He also changes nappies, rings to see how he is feeling when he has a cold, peels and cores apples and did I mention CHANGES NAPPIES?

Is nothing sacred? Just when you think you’ve got the world sorted out, some old-timer comes along and disturbs the natural order of things.  And I must admit, I am loving it. I love watching him with Bear. I love watching my own parents playing with, spoiling and teaching my own children. It makes me so sad that they are so far away. Apart from you, no-one else in the world loves your children as much as their grandparents. Who else could I bore with pictures of his first hair cut? Who else finds their lisp as adorable as I do? Although in the case of my phenomenally biased mother-in-law, not only does the Bear not have a lisp but his speech is so incredibly developed that he should probably be studied at a gifted children’s institute of some sort.

I of course knew that bringing up children would bring joy. And sometimes when they are not chucking a tantrum in Argos or spilling chocolate all the way down their fronts, this is actually true. But what I didn’t realise was that there would be some free steak knife type additional joy – the grandchild/grandparent relationship.

photo credit: Amir K.

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