Grandma And Granddaughter Quotes

Tell me, what are your intentions with my granddaughter. She’s never had a boyfriend, you know. Yes, ma’am. I am aware. And did you have anything to do with that? The corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. I might have. Why? Because she’s mine.

If that rank bastard comes near my baby– (Sunshine's grandmother) Grandma! (Sunshine) Well, he is. Messing with my granddaughter. I’ll boil his warts in oil and feed his head to the wolves. (Sunshine's grandmother) You know, wolves don’t really like to eat heads. Meat, yes, but heads are really hard on the jaws. Not to mention, the cranium gets caught between your teeth. (Vane)

To all those who care, You can't forever. Time steals the years, And your reflection in the mirror. But I can still see the story in your eyes, And your timeless passion that’s never died. While your skin became tired, Your heart became strong, The present became the past, And your memories like a song. And though the moment at hand is all that we have, You’ve taught me to live it like it is our last. Since two words don't say ‘thank you’ the way they are meant to, I'll try all my life to be something like you.

Eleanor Krautz pushed her way through the crowd and stage-whispered to Grandma, "Who's the hottie with your granddaughter?" "That's Ranger," Grandma stage-whispered back at Eleanor. "I don't think Stephanie knows what to do with him." "I'd know what to do with him," Eleanor said. "Jeez Louise," I said. "We can hear this conversation." Ranger looked down at me. "I could make suggestions if you're really in the dark.

And Yesenia also knew, as she drowned in the old woman’s furious eyes, that Grandma despised her with every ounce of her being and in that very moment she was putting a curse on Yesenia, and in the faintest of voices Yesenia begged for forgiveness and explained that it had all been for her, but it was too late: once again, Grandma hit Yesenia where it hurt most, dying right there, trembling with hate in the arms of her eldest granddaughter.

by 1934, Walter Brennan was in a state of near collapse. “What my grandma said,” Walter’s granddaughter Claudia Gonzales remembered, “[was that] he was eating his dinner, and he put down his fork. He looked at her, and he said, ‘I don’t know what to eat next.’” He had made it through World War I in reasonably good shape. Indeed, he had scoffed at the idea of shell shock. But then, as he told Goldwyn biographer Carol Easton, “Boy, I cracked up.” There were nights when he just wanted to sink into his bed. Then he would wake up at 2 am with a “nameless numbing fear.” As he also told Easton, “If it hadn’t been for my wife, I’d have jumped off the Pasadena Bridge. I fell away to nothin’. I weighed about 140 pounds. Gee, when I got a job in Barbary Coast, I was carryin’ my ground-up vegetables in a mason jar. They had to build muscles into my clothes.” Brennan’s son Walter Jr. (“Andy”) recalled that as a young boy he had not understood what his father was going through, but he knew that his father was in trouble.

For some reason, Jase thought it would be really funny to lock me out of the house, and I was furious. I kept banging on the door, but Jase had turned the music up loud so he wouldn’t hear me. He kicked his feet up on a table and kept yelling, “I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you.” I went to Granny’s house and told Kay what Jase had done. Kay went marching back to our house and was hotter than a catfish fry in July. She started banging on the door, but Jase thought it was still me and just kept blaring the music and enjoying having the house to himself. Kay got so angry that she banged on the glass pane and her fist went right through the window, cutting up her hand pretty badly. This caught Jase’s attention. When he saw her hand, he knew he was in big trouble. “When your dad gets home, he’s going to whip y’all’s butts,” Kay told us. I hadn’t even done anything, but Phil didn’t usually conduct and investigation to find out who was at fault. He just whipped whoever was in the vicinity of the crime. Jase and I ran back to our room and padded up with anything we could find-socks, underwear, and pillowcases. We sat on our bed with our butts padded, waiting for Phil to get home, certain we were in big trouble. Phil came into our house and saw the bandage on Kay’s hand. “What in the world did you do?” Phil asked her. “Look at what these boys did,” Kay told him. “Jase locked Willie out of the house, and I was banging on the door for him to let us in. My hand went right through the window.” “Kay, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Why would you bang on a glass window?” Phil said. Phil walked right by her and took a shower. Jase and I were standing there with padded behind, our mouths wide open with relief. Phil was always in charge of disciplining us, but sometimes Kay tried to take matters into her own hands. Unfortunately for Kay, she was really an uncoordinated disciplinarian. One day when Phil was out fishing, Kay announced that she was going to whip us. She grabbed a belt that had a buckle on one end and told us to line up for a whipping. Now, Kay never liked whipping us and always closed her eyes when she swung because she didn’t want to watch. This time, she reared back and swung and missed, and the buckle flew back and hit her right in the forehead. Jase and I just looked at her, started laughing, and took off running into the backyard. I really don’t know how she survived raising us four boys. Korie: Poor Kay! All that testosterone in one house! Maybe that’s why she is so great to us daughters-in-law. She is thankful we took them off her hands. She has definitely enjoyed all of her granddaughters. She has set up a cute little library and a place for tea parties. They have coloring contests and dress-up parties. She didn’t get to do any of that with her four boys so our daughters have gotten the full “girly” grandma treatment.

You need tea and cake?" "I'm not hungry," Cora says, following Etta upstairs. "Oh, my dear." Etta laughs, the sound humming around her. "When is cake ever for hunger? It's for flavor and, in this case, comfort." Behind her grandmother, Cora smiles. They walk into the kitchen and Etta flicks on the kettle. On the counter sits a large chocolate cake, icing shining and dotted with cherries. The room is filled with the thick scent of chocolate. "It's beautiful," Cora says. "You're the best grandma a girl could hope for." "Hardly." Etta sets out two plates and begins cutting the cake. "Anyway, it's not that cherry pie you love so much, but it will have to do.

I shut my eyes and pictured Grandma standing on the windowsill, looking down into the courtyard. What was she thinking before she jumped? She must have forgotten about her duties to her country, and her family too. Did she think about her granddaughter rushing back from Shandong for the funeral? Did she remember her blind sister? I wiped at my tears and took a deep breath.

My favorite story of this concept is where, one Thanksgiving, a little girl is helping her mother in the kitchen. “Mom, I see you cut the ham in half. Why did you do that?” she asks her mother. “Oh, it’s a family tradition. We cut the ham in half and we put one half in each oven,” the mother replies. “We bought this house specifically because it had a double oven and it took us months longer than we thought it would to find a house that had a double oven.” “But why do you cut the ham in half?” the daughter asks again. “Well, it’s family tradition and we’ve always done that. I think it makes the food better or something, I don’t really know the answer. Why don’t you ask Grandma?” The little girl goes and asks Grandma and says, “Grandma, why do you cut the ham in half?” “Well, that’s a good question, dear,” Grandma replied. “When your grandfather and I bought our house, we had to spend thousands of dollars extra changing the kitchen around to buy a double oven, because, after all, simply nobody had double ovens in those days. It was really painful, I remember, but it’s a family tradition and we knew it mattered.” The daughter asks again, “Well, why do you do it?” “Well, I don’t really know,” Grandma says. “I don’t know, maybe it’s something to do with the food being better or something. Why don’t you ask your great-grandma?” Great-Grandma is sitting in the living room and she’s old and frail. The little girl goes up to her and says, “Great-Grandma, why does this family always cut the ham in half and cook it in two ovens?” She goes, “Well, I have no idea why my daughter and granddaughter do it, but I did it simply because the oven wasn’t big enough.

Florianna Flamingo’s Flowers is the second book in a series entitled Friends on Pinfeather Street. This book is about a young girl, Florianna, named after her grandmother Flora, a woman who fancies flowers. Like her grandmother, Florianna develops a fascination with blossoms and buds of every size and shape. Grandma Flora presents her granddaughter with a book of flowers for her birthday. Florianna is mesmerized by the pictures of flowers in the book and begins to employ them as a method of bringing good cheer to other people. With her grandmother as a role model, Florianna draws on the enchantment of her flower book to foster kindness. The book helps children learn how they can model positive behavior and take steps toward growth and development. The author/illustrator conveys an endearing story in rhyme that is both enjoyable and educational for children. Featuring pictures, painted by the author/illustrator, this book is a must for children who like to have fun while they learn!

She tore the house apart looking for documents to prove we were her children. She found nothing. In my case, no one was sure when I’d been born. Mother remembered one date, Dad another, and Grandma-down-the-hill, who went to town and swore an affidavit that I was her granddaughter, gave a third date.

​“I didn’t attack her, I just had the trolls start nasty rumors about her. I know the girl is strong for a human and would take it better than you,” Grandma Jasmine said, not feeling guilty at all. ​“Grandma, you had no right to drag Ruby into this!” I insisted. ​“I’m a grandma, I can do whatever I think will help to make my granddaughter better!” she insisted.

He told her he was tired and didn't want any mechanical intervention. "No breathing tubes! No shocks, and no pushing on my chest. Just let me go." He was willing to try treatments that would make him feel better (comfort care), Rebecca says, such as wound care and pain management, as well as the treatments he was already getting. But, he said, "If they are giving it to me just to give it to me, then forget about it." At that point, Rebecca turned to her grandmother, who would be the ultimate decision maker should her grandfather become unable to make his own choices. "Well, darling," she said, "of course I would tell the doctors to do everything possible to keep my husband alive." Rebecca was stunned. She'd just had a lovely, candid, and specific discussion with her grandfather about his wishes. Hadn't her grandmother heard what he'd said? She then asked her grandmother to tell her what she had heard her grandfather say, and her grandmother repeated his wishes but said she loved her husband too much to let him go. "If he is with me just one more day, it would be worth it to me," she told her granddaughter. It would be worth it to her even if he were "hooked up to machines and not able to talk to me." Rebecca then turned back to her grandfather and asked, "Did you just hear what Grandma said?" He said he did. She asked how he felt about her going against his wishes and requesting a feeding tube, ventilator, shocks, and other treatments he had said he did not want. "Is that okay with you?" she asked in disbelief. Her grandfather said it was. "I am ready to go, but if it helps your grandmother to feel that she did everything possible for me, even if it is because she doesn't want me to go, that is okay. She is the one who has to go on living with her decision. If this is what she wants, then this is what I want because I love her." Rebecca realized in that moment that her grandfather's wishes were being honored; above all else, he wanted a death that his wife could live with.

turned and looked at her. Grandma flexed her arm. “Ride or die.” I squinted at her. “I’m still mad at you for ratting me out.” “You looked like death warmed over,” Grandma said. “You may be the Head of House Baylor, but you’re still my granddaughter and I won’t be taking any of your bullshit.” “How is my sweater coming along, Grandma? Have you knitted more than two inches yet?” Grandma Frida gave me the Look of Death.

After working most of her life Grandma finally retired. At her next checkup, the new doctor told her to bring a list of all the medicines that had been prescribed for her. As the young doctor was looking through these, his eyes grew wide as he realized she had a prescription for birth control pills. "Mrs. Smith, do you realize these are BIRTH CONTROL pills?" “Yes, they help me sleep at night.” "Mrs. Smith, I assure you there is absolutely NOTHING in these that could possibly help you sleep! She reached out and patted the young Doctor’s knee. "Yes, dear, I know that. But every morning, I grind one up and mix it in the glass of orange juice that my 16 year old granddaughter drinks . . . and believe me, it helps me sleep at night.

Happy Birthday to my beautiful twins granddaughters, my super heroes forever. May God bless you and cover you with His divine garment of protection all the days of lives.Grandma loves you and misses you so much.

And I thought grandmothers were supposed to be sweet and loving and not someone who would trick their grandson and practically adopted granddaughter into losing a bet!” “Ah, yes,” Grandma says, “but sometimes grandmothers need to do what they think is best for their grandson and practically adopted granddaughter