Gigi is the other grandmother. She lives in a condo in Florida. She has a deep tan, a white convertible, and visits twice a year.
Gigi doesn’t bring casseroles. She brings suitcases that look like treasure chests. Gigi doesn’t bring rules about screen time. She brings chaos and sugar.
Yesterday was Sophie’s 10th birthday.
For weeks, I had been working on her gift. Sophie loves sketching, so I put together a professional artist’s portfolio. I bought the high-grade pencils, the charcoal, the expensive sketchpad. I even hand-sewed a custom denim case for it all, stitching her initials in the corner. It wasn’t flashy, but it was her.
The party was in the backyard. I was manning the grill, flipping burgers because Sarah was busy with the guests.
Then, a rental Mustang pulled up. Gigi had arrived.
The energy shifted instantly. It was like a celebrity walked in. She was wearing bright turquoise, laughing loudly, smelling of expensive perfume.
She didn’t hand Sophie a gift. She handed her a box that everyone recognizes instantly.
A brand-new, top-of-the-line iPad Pro.
The kids screamed. Literally screamed. They swarmed Gigi like she was Santa Claus. Sophie dropped the hand-sewn denim case I had just given her onto the grass to grab the tablet.
