**Diary Entry Summer with the Grandkids**
“Blimey, you really dont know modern children, do you?”
“Hello, Margaret! Saw you pottering about in the garden and thought Id pop round for a chat,” said Elizabeth, shuffling by the gate.
She and Margaret lived at opposite ends of the village. Elizabeth and her husband, Albert, near the river, while Margarets cottage sat closer to the woods.
Theyd never been closeplenty of neighbours kept them busy. But now, those neighbours grandkids were all grown, while Elizabeths son, Thomas, announced hed be sending his two boys, Oliver and Henry, for the entire summer. “Theyre sick of the city,” hed said.
Years ago, when times were better, Thomass family jetted off to Spain or France. Now, with money tight, they remembered dear old Mum and Dad by the river. Not just a weekend visita whole month.
“Just a warning, Mum,” Thomas had added. “Oliver, at thirteen, fancies himself an adult. Henry wont take orders from him, so they bicker constantly.”
“Rubbish! Well manage,” Elizabeth had declared cheerily. But after hanging up, doubt crept in. Children werent like they used to be. Last time the boys visited, theyd been little. Now? What if she couldnt handle them?
Albert was firmno nonsense tolerated. No room for squabbles.
So Elizabeth hedged her bets and visited Margaret, whose grandsons were near the same age. She remembered from raising Thomas: keep them busy, and trouble stays at bay.
“Come in, Elizabeth!” Margaret beckoned. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“My grandsons are coming for the summer. Yours are about the same age, arent they? Thought they might get on.”
Margaret laughed. “You dont know modern children! Arent you nervous? Mine drove me up the wallAlbert nearly sent them packing. But fine, bring them round. What choice do we have? Theyre family.”
That weekend, Thomas arrived with his wife, Penelope, and the boys.
Oliver and Henry had shot up, clearly delighted to see their grandparents. Elizabeths worries melted. What nonsense Margaret had spouted! These boys were polite, well-mannered, and bright. Nothing to fret over.
“Mum, ring if theres trouble,” Thomas said as he left. Elizabeth waved him off. “Oh, hush. Raised you, didnt I?”
That night, the boys took ages to settle. Theyd been given Thomass old room but, excited by the change, chattered and fussed, keeping Albert awake.
“Why on earth did you agree to this?” he grumbled. “They dont care for village life!”
Come morning, the boys slept till noon.
“Nana, let us sleep,” Oliver groaned. Henry didnt stir.
“Good grief! How much sleep do you need?” Elizabeth huffed. Then she spotted something on the floortheir phones.
“Up all night gaming, were you? Thats it, Im confiscating these!”
Oliver leapt up. “Give them back! Mum lets us!”
“Then Ill ring her and ask!” Elizabeth snapped. Oliver backed off, sulked, and slammed the door. “Go on, then!”
Two hours of silent treatment later, Albert nearly stormed in. But the boys emerged, scowling.
“Were not eating porridge. We want nuggets or toasted sandwiches.”
“Is that so?” Alberts temper flared. “Then stay hungry. Made your beds? Ill check.” He marched in. “Crisp packets? Sweet wrappers in bed? And youve not lifted a finger? No work, no food! Tidy up, now!”
“We cant go hungry!” Henry glowered. “Youre mean!”
Albert nearly exploded, but Elizabeth stepped in. “Right, Ill show you how to make the beds. Tomorrow, youll do it. Sandwiches after porridge, agreed?”
“Youre soft on them,” Albert muttered. “No discipline, no respect!”
“Dont act the saint,” Elizabeth chided. “I remember you at their age.”
The boys befriended Margarets grandsonsand chaos multiplied.
Branches, sticks, crushed flowers littered the garden. Mud trailed indoors, chairs wobbled, doors nearly came off hinges from slamming.
“Good lord, what children!” Albert fumed. “Never again!” He dragged Oliver off to fix bicycles. “Grandads rule: earn your keep. Nothings free. Look at youripped trousers! Lucky Nana saved your dads old clothes.”
“Stop grumbling,” Elizabeth warned. “You were no angel.”
When Thomas fetched them, the boys complained: “Grandad worked us to death! No phones, just chores!”
But a week later, Thomas rang, stunned. “Mum, Dadhowd you manage it? Henry peels potatoes and hoovers! Oliver does his washing and actually talks to us now!”
“What, were we meant to wait on them?” Elizabeth retorted. “They sulked when they left. Doubt theyll return.”
Yet a year later, Oliver and Henry begged to come backeven turned down a holiday abroad. The village meant friends. And there was pride in eating porridge, pieseverything Nana cookedknowing theyd earned it.
Work brings worth. And that? That feels good.
**Lesson Learned:** Labour shapes character. A little grit never hurt anyoneleast of all grandchildren.
