Every so often, I gather my teenagers, load them into the car, and embark on the grand journey to visit their grandparents. You would think I was dragging them to a medieval torture chamber rather than a cozy house filled with homemade cookies and unconditional love.
The car ride itself is an event. One teenager asks if this visit is really necessary. The other mumbles something about how “old people houses smell weird.” I remind them that these are the same people who used to change their diapers and buy them presents for no reason. They remain unimpressed.
When we arrive, the grandparents greet us with enthusiasm. My teens? They awkwardly accept hugs like malfunctioning robots. My mother beams and says, “You have grown so much!” to which my son grunts in response. My dad starts a speech about how gas prices were lower in his day. My daughter glances at the door like she is planning an escape.
Then comes the dreaded conversation portion of the visit. My parents ask questions. My teenagers respond with one-word answers. “How is school?” “Fine.” “Got a boyfriend or girlfriend?” “No.” “What do you do for fun?” “Nothing.”
Sensing disaster, I steer them toward the snacks. Suddenly, the mood shifts. Cookies have a magical ability to break down generational walls. My daughter compliments the brownies. My son eats three in a row. My mother beams as if she just won an award.
As the visit ends, my kids seem… happy. They hug their grandparents a little tighter. In the car on the way home, my son says, “Grandma makes the best cookies.” My daughter nods. I say nothing. I just smile, knowing that despite their teenage grumbling, some things—like love and snacks—will always bring us together.