“Don’t you wanna babysit your grandkids?” She Asks.
“Don’t you wanna babysit your grandkids?” she asks. But it’s not a question, no, it’s an attack—on her life, on her sacrifice.
She responds in kind, then immediately regrets it. How could her daughter ever understand? She got to go to college, build a career, date multiple men, and then decide who she wanted to be with. She chose well. What did she know about marrying to get out of poverty, and helping your siblings escape that dead mining town…one by one? They moved in, they got married, they moved out.
“Don’t you wanna babysit your grandkids?” she asks. It’s an oversimplification. It’s a setup. It’s a trap. You’re supposed to say yes to that question, and then fall into another hole for 20 years. If you object, you’re a bad grandmother.
The devil laughs. “Being a mother is forever,” he reminds her. There are no breaks, no reprieves. That’s what she saw in her mother, and that’s what is expected of her now.
“Don’t you wanna babysit your grandkids?” she asks. The question reminds her of when her eldest son knocked up a girl when he was only 17. She was almost there. Her eldest was about to be 18 and go off to college, and the other three weren’t far behind. Then, suddenly, it was like the Candyland board…she picked the wrong card and was sent all the way back to the Peppermint…
