You must not know today’s kids very well!

**Diary Entry A Summer with the Grandkids**

“Blimey, you must not know todays children very well!”

“Hello, Margaret, I see youre busy in the gardenthought Id pop over,” said Patricia, hovering at the gate.

She and Margaret lived at opposite ends of the village. Patricia and her husband Victor had a cottage near the river, while Margarets place was closer to the woods.

Theyd never been closethere were plenty of neighbours between them. But now, with most of their friends grandchildren grown up, Patricia found herself facing a new challenge. Her son Nicholas and his wife Pauline were sending their two boys, Oliver and Jack, to stay for the entire summer.

Back when Nicholas was doing well, theyd always jetted off abroad for holidays. But times had changed, and suddenly, the idea of fresh country air by the river sounded appealing.

“Just a heads-up, Mum,” Nicholas had warned, “Olivers thirteen and thinks hes grown. Jack wont take orders from him, so theyve been at each others throats.”

“Oh, well manage,” Patricia had said cheerfully. But after hanging up, doubt set in. Children werent like they used to be. The boys had only ever visited for weekendshow would they handle a whole month? Victor had little patience for cheek, and the last thing they needed was constant bickering.

Patricia decided to hedge her bets. Margarets grandsons were about the same ageperhaps they could all keep each other busy.

“Come in, Patricia!” Margaret called, spotting her. “What brings you here?”

“Well, the boys are staying with us this summer. I thought if yours are visiting too, they might all get alongkeep them occupied, you know?”

Margaret burst out laughing. “You must not know todays kids! Mine drove me up the wall last time. My husband nearly sent them packing! But fine, bring them round. What else can we do? Theyre family, after all.”

That weekend, Nicholas and Pauline dropped off Oliver and Jack. The boys seemed happy enough to see their grandparents, and Patricias worries eased. What was Margaret on about? Her grandsons were polite, well-behavednothing to fret over.

“Call if theres trouble, Mum,” Nicholas said as they left. Patricia waved him off. “Oh, dont fusswe raised you, didnt we?”

That night, the boys took ages to settle. Theyd been given Nicholass old room, but the excitement kept them wired. Their chatter and thumping irritated Victor.

“What possessed you to agree to this?” he grumbled. “They dont care about the countrysidethey just needed a free holiday!”

Come morning, they refused to sleep. By lunchtime, they were still dead to the world.

“Gran, let us sleep,” Oliver groaned. Jack didnt even stir.

“How long can they possibly need?” Patricia huffed.

Then she spotted their phones on the floor. She snatched them up. “Playing games all night? Thats itIm confiscating these!”

Oliver bolted upright. “Give them back! Theyre not yours!”

“Ill ring your mother and see what she says about that,” Patricia shot back. Oliver scowled and stormed off, slamming the door. “Finecall her!”

Two hours later, they emerged, sulking.

“Were not eating porridge. We want nuggets or toasties,” Jack demanded.

“Oh, is that so?” Victor snapped. “Then go hungry. And have you made your beds? Lets have a lookwhats this? Crisp packets and sweet wrappers in the sheets? Youll tidy this up before you even think about food!”

“You cant starve us!” Jack glared.

Victor nearly lost his temper, but Patricia stepped in. “Right, Ill show you how to make the beds properly. Tomorrow, youll do it yourselves. And you can have toastafter porridge. Deal?”

“Youre spoiling them,” Victor muttered. “No discipline, no respectjust entitlement!”

The boys eventually befriended Margarets grandsons, but the four of them were a menace. Broken branches, trampled flowers, muddy footprintsthe house was a wreck.

“What kind of children are these?” Victor fumed. “Never again!”

But then something changed. Victor put Oliver to work fixing bikes while Patricia taught Jack to cook.

“Waityou expect us to earn our keep?” Oliver asked, baffled.

“Did you think everything in lifes free?” Victor retorted. “You tore your clothes on day onenow youre wearing your dads old things. Nothing comes without effort!”

“Dont be too hard on them,” Patricia chided. “You werent an angel at their age.”

When their parents picked them up, the boys complained: “Grandad made us work! He took our phones!”

But a week later, Nicholas called, stunned. “Mum, Dadhowd you manage it? Jack peels potatoes now! Oliver does his own washing. They even cook a bit!”

Patricia scoffed. “Were we supposed to wait on them? They sulked when they leftdoubt theyll want to come back.”

Yet a year later, Oliver and Jack begged to returneven turned down a holiday abroad. The village held their friends, and there was something satisfying about eating food theyd helped prepare.

Funny, that. Pride in honest workwhod have thought theyd learn it here?