When Grandma Met the PC Culture
When shopping for a birthday gift for my seven year old grandson took an awkward turn
Like most grandparents we adore our grandkids, but we’re especially close to the youngest as we’ve been taking care of him part time since he 6 weeks old. Yesterday was no exception as we picked him up once again at noon after Zoo camp ended.
After a lunch here at home of his favorite scrambled eggs, he dubbed “Mimi eggs” years ago, I promised I’d take him to a store that had cowboy stuff.
His current crush is on anything Western that began after he and his dad recently watched “Dances With Wolves.” Even his birthday party theme for this year is ‘cowboys’ which is this weekend. How this theme will be incorporated into a pool party I can’t imagine, but not my problem.
So off he and I went to Hobby Lobby because I noticed some cowboys items in their display of lodge decor the last time I was there. Aside from a toy store, which closed down last year, it was the only place I could think of that have something that might interest him that didn’t cost an arm and a leg.
Yes, we have Cabela’s but their shit is expensive and he goes there frequently with his dad because they are now going on hunting trips together. He even has his own gun he can use under dad’s supervision, and is accumulating all the other things that goes with hunting and camping.
This whole hunting hobby is not something I’m comfortable with, but I’m just his grandma. How he’s being raised is not up to me so I keep my unpopular opinion of this between me and Mr. Pam, my husband.
As soon as birthday boy and I got to the aisles showcasing lodge stuff he beelined it straight to a replica of a shotgun hanging on a peg. “Look Mimi — A rifle!” I groaned and did my usual eye roll, which I’ve learned is much better than yelling “hell no!”
“Ah yeah” I said without any enthusiasm. “Can I see it? Will you get it down, pleeease?” He begged.
I handed it to him and tried to find the price but it didn’t have a tag. “Let’s look around, ok? There’s lots of stuff here.”
He started looking but never let go of the shotgun that was meant to be hung on a wall.
I pointed out other replica’s of cowboy boots and hats, dream catchers, horse shoes, large and small pictures of horses, fake canteens, sheriff badges, etc; but nothing excited him and held his attention like that damn little shotgun.
When we had exhausted looking at everything he turned his full attention to the gun in his hands. Then before I could catch him he aimed it and pretending to pull the trigger at anything and everything he saw. Customers, other kids, and stuffed animals all got shot in less than 20 seconds before I grabbed it out of his hands and warned him to never aim even a play gun at a person.
He agreed and asked for it back and I told him we needed to go check out as I kept one eye on how he handled it now.
The checker with the shortest line was a young gal with tat’s all over her oversized arms and neck who I ungraciously decided would be dead before her 30th birthday is she didn’t start taking her diet seriously.
My mood had taken a definite downturn.
I imagined she sized me up as a skinny old ‘cis’ lady with a grandson I was over-indulging.
I quickly noticed her attitude towards us was as attractive as her girth which was threatening to make me put my mood on her.
Since the shot gun plaque didn’t have a price she called for a manager while I noticed customers behind us quickly departing for another faster line.
Once the price was found on her iPad, I flipped out my credit card and Miss Dough girl looks at my grandson and says, “so you like to play with guns, huh?” I decided to stay quiet and see where this might go.
He answered, “yeah, I shoot birds, squirrels and bunnies, too.” I cringed but kept my lips glued tight. “Do you kill them?” She asked feigning innocence.
“Yes! If I hit them.” “Oh no! Well I have a son who’s 4, but I won’t let him play with guns.” AND THAT DID IT…
I looked her dead in the eyes but calmly said, “his dad hunts so he’s teaching him how to hunt — I don’t like it either, but what are ya gonna do?” I took the receipt and my grandson took the bag, but then she glibly added as we headed for the door, “ya know what they say, see something, say something.”
I was about to turn around and create a scene, but I saw her manager step up to her and I heard her warn, “just let it go. It’s none of your business.”
I stood there for a few moments to show them that I still wasn’t above making a scene, but Dough Girl immediately turned away from us and her manager thanked me and wished us a good day with sincerity.
When we got outside, my grandson said, “whoa, what was her problem?” I didn’t trust myself to give an intelligent answer so I just said, “I don’t know so let’s not worry about it.”
I was fighting a disgusted attitude half the way home but I kept it under wraps for my grandson. I didn’t even relay it to Mr. Pam until our grandson was gone and we were having dinner.
Mr. Pam’s attitude was much more docile than mine. “Ya should’ve gone to Cabela’s. They’re used to people buying that stuff.” “Yeah but the bill would’ve been higher, plus he would’ve found even more GUN stuff he wanted. I’ll be glad when he outgrows this phase.” He just shook his head and added, “he may get over this phase but like it or not, he’s already daddy’s little hunting buddy.”
It was my turn to shake my head.
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