My bond with my grandson had always been strong, but everything started to change when he became a teenager. Suddenly, he seemed too busy for me—constantly on his phone or out with friends, barely even noticing I was there.
One afternoon, he had some friends over. I brought them snacks and affectionately ruffled his hair like I used to when he was younger. He flushed with embarrassment, slapped my hand away, and muttered, “Grandma, stop! That’s so embarrassing.” His friends laughed, and I felt my heart break a little. I quietly apologized and walked away, hiding how much it stung.
A week later, on my birthday, I wasn’t expecting much from him. But when I walked into the kitchen, there he stood with a cake he had baked himself. “You always made my birthdays feel special,” he said. “I wanted to do the same for you.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I smiled. He might be growing up, but in that moment, I saw the same boy I’d always loved.
