An Evening with Grandma and Grandpa (A Parable)

The year: 2044. (This is important.)

The kitchen, as grandparents' kitchens are wont to be, is scented of chocolate chips and sweet oven-crispness. Grandma is wobbling about in her apron, cleaning up the crumbs and spills of young bakers. Grandpa sits at the table with said bakers, ages seven and nine. Grandpa looks tired, his chin in his hands, his elbows on the table.

"F#$%ing, A, Grandpa," says the seven-year-old. "These f#$@ing cookies are bangin'. Grandma," she yells over her shoulder, "you can bake your f#$@ing a#$ off, b#@ch!" 

Grandma sighs. "Thank you, dear." She drops a glass that shatters in the sink.

The nine-year-old grandson gets up and goes to the sink. "Sh#@! Are you alright, Grandma?"

"Yes, dear," she says. 

"Thank f#@#$ing #@#$%," the boy says. He goes back to sit with Grandpa. 

Grandpa rubs his face. Pats his grandson on the shoulder. "How's school been?"

"Okay, I guess. She gave me a C in math. Mom says the f#@$ing teacher sucks. She's gonna get the grade changed or call her lawyer."

Grandpa looks over and Grandma. Their eyes meet. Grandpa says, "Uh...good. Good, I guess."

"Damn right," the boy says. "I don't get Cs. Cs are no good for getting into college."

Grandma brushes the broken glass into a can, "But, you're only nine. College is not really a worry now, is it?"

The two kids roll their eyes. "You just don't f#$@#ing get it, Grandma."

"No," Grandma says. "I suppose I don't."

"You know," says Grandpa, "when I was a young man, there were situations in which profanity was inappropriate."

The kids look at each other and reply in unison: "What the f#@$ is profanity Grandpa?"

Grandpa rubs his neck. "Have some more cookies. I'm gonna go wash my f#@#ing car."

"Benjamin!" says Grandma.

Grandpa walks over to Grandma, kisses her on the cheek. "Sorry dear."