“The other grandma” – it stung a little to hear it, even though honesty is the best policy, right? When I jokingly asked my grandkids which grandma was their favorite, my seven-year-old grandson, Jonah, didn’t miss a beat. “The other grandma,” he declared. His younger sister, Sasha, age four, echoed with gusto, “Yeah, Grandma in Michigan!” And the reason for this preference, delivered with the bluntness only children possess? “You buy us nothing. Not one thing!” Jonah stated, Sasha firmly agreeing with a simple, “Nothing.”
Now, before you jump to conclusions about my financial situation or my affection for my grandkids, let me clarify. It’s not about lacking resources, and certainly not about lacking love. My friends, generous grandparents themselves, often express their bewilderment. “How can you not buy them presents, especially when you can?” they ask, listing the thoughtful gifts they shower upon their own grandchildren: educational toys, classic literature, art supplies, sports gear, and adorable outfits. And yes, even a few trinkets. It’s all good stuff, isn’t it? What could possibly be wrong with that?
Absolutely nothing, in theory. The reality, however, is that my grandchildren, much like my friends’ grandkids, are already swimming in a sea of possessions. Their closets are bursting, toy bins overflow from under their beds, and the sheer volume of stuff is staggering. Jonah boasts a collection of 37 stuffed animals, while Sasha isn’t far behind with 27. Add to that the mountains of puzzles, books, building blocks, toy cars, dolls, and enough Paw Patrol merchandise to rival a retail store.
Image: A grandmother is playfully overwhelmed by the chaos of toys and her grandchildren, highlighting the common scenario of toy overload in modern households.
And it’s not just the quantity; it’s the quality of play. Many of these toys are already broken or forgotten – remote control cars without batteries, action figures missing limbs, board games with crucial pieces vanished, dried-out markers, and books with torn pages. Remember that plastic kiddie pool? Used three times. The telescope? Maybe twice. Butterfly nets? Still pristine. And the clothes! Enough to outfit an entire kindergarten class.
My grandparent friends echo this sentiment. Helene Siegel, a friend who recently relocated to Los Angeles from Tenafly, remarked, “There is absolutely nothing I can buy that my grandkids don’t already have in abundance. Lately, I’ve started double-checking because it turns out she already owns many of the books I carefully selected.”
Deborah Wilburn from New York City shares the same bewilderment about storage space. “They have an entire room dedicated to toys,” she exclaimed, “Where are they even going to put more things?” She recounted a recent incident where her youngest grandchild received a toy grill from his parents. “The kid will never even play with it,” she sighed. “It’s just ridiculous.”
Despite this obvious overabundance, the cycle of gift-giving continues. Even when the children themselves hint at enough being enough (a rare occurrence, admittedly). Sarah Lang, another friend and a fellow book enthusiast, admitted that her well-intentioned gifts of books were met with pleas of, “Please, no more books!” from her grandchildren during their last visit.
It’s easy to understand the motivation behind grandparental gift-giving. Seeing those little faces light up is undeniably joyful, even if that joy is fleeting. “I know it’s momentary, but seeing their smiles makes me happy,” Helene confessed. Gifts are, undeniably, a tangible expression of love. For some grandparents, especially those living far away or with busy schedules, gifts become a way to bridge distance and express affection.
So, does my reluctance to buy gifts mean I love my granddaughters any less? Absolutely not. I am utterly devoted to them, and they know it. I make it a point to visit them almost every week. Our time together is filled with active engagement – we play games, draw pictures, enjoy meals out, build forts, engage in imaginative play, and generally act silly until my energy (usually mine!) gives out. We explore museums, attend the circus and theater, spend days at the beach, and have cozy sleepovers. But amidst all these shared experiences, there are no gifts exchanged.
Instead of contributing to the mountain of toys, I’ve chosen to invest in their future. My focus is on contributing to their college education fund, believing that this long-term investment is far more valuable than another plastic toy or a frilly dress they’ll quickly outgrow.
And about their supposed preference for the “other grandma”? I’m genuinely happy they adore her, and I’m equally secure in their love for me. Perhaps, in the long run, they’ll appreciate the gifts of experiences and the investment in their future even more than another fleeting toy. Maybe, just maybe, the memories we create together will be the most enduring and cherished gifts of all.
