This morning I asked Grandma to unload the silverware from the dishwasher. I have several small chores that are delegated to her to raise her sense of self-worth and contribution to the household, to stimulate her mentally, give her something to do besides and annoy me with questions about the news, and in general, they are things I don’t want to fuck with. It’s a win-win. The silverware in the dishwasher is at the top of that list.
This morning, as with all silverware sorting mornings, I set before her the silverware holder from the drawer and the silverware basket from the dishwasher. Each was half full. I went about my business, putting away the rest of the dishes. When I returned to the table to take the drawer, it was completely empty. Grandma had sorted all of the silverware back into the dishwasher basket. All of it, all 12 place settings were now neatly arranged, just in the wrong place. Or were they? There are times that I have asked her, before a dinner on the patio, to take them from the drawer container and put them upright in a carrying basket. The dishwasher basket is very similar.
As I opened my mouth to make light of the situation, I suddenly stopped. When she looked up to me, I saw pride register across her face. She felt she had accomplished the task perfectly. And she had. I had a sudden memory of what it once felt like to be in that place. To be perfectly sure and proud of what I had done, only to be told after that it was wrong. But it really wasn’t wrong, it was simply different.
I thanked her and moved the rack to the counter. I made a mental note to communicate better, and I stared in amazement at the perfectly arranged rows of matching silverware within the basket. I wondered, am I teaching, or am I learning?
The Grandma Blog 
note to self…I must also communicate better. boyfriends are a lot like grandmas…they think they are doing the right thing & when they don’t do it “my way” I have to remember I wasn’t very specific now was I?