You must not know today’s kids very well!

**Diary Entry A Summer with the Grandkids**

“You must not know much about kids these days!”

“Hello, Margaret. Saw you pottering about in the garden, thought Id pop by,” said Elizabeth, shifting from foot to foot by the gate.

She and Margaret lived at opposite ends of the villageElizabeth and her husband, Victor, near the river, while Margarets cottage sat closer to the woods.

Theyd never been close before; there were plenty of neighbours to chat with. But lately, most of those neighbours had grown-up grandchildren. This summer, though, Elizabeths son, Thomas, and his wife, Rebecca, were sending their boys, Oliver and Henry, for a whole month. Said the lads were tired of city life.

Years ago, when money was better, the family always jetted off abroad. Now things had changed, and suddenly they remembered Mum and Dads quiet place by the river. Not just a weekend visita full month.

“Just a warning, Mum,” Thomas had said. “Those two dont always get along. Olivers thirteen and fancies himself all grown up. Henry wont take orders from him, so theyre always at each others throats.”

“Oh, well manage,” Elizabeth had declared cheerfully. But after hanging up, doubt crept in. Kids werent like they used to be. These days, you couldnt just tell them off. The last time theyd stayed this long, they were little. How would they behave now? What if she couldnt handle them?

Victor wasnt one to tolerate cheek. He wouldnt stand for nonsense.

Best to be prepared. So Elizabeth walked over to Margaretsher grandsons, shed heard, were around the same age.

She remembered from her own days: keep children busy, and therell be fewer problems.

“Come in, Elizabeth!” Margaret called when she spotted her. “What brings you round?”

“Well, the boys are staying with us this summer, and I thought yours might be around the same age? Get them acquainted, theyll have fun, and well all have an easier time,” Elizabeth suggested.

“You must not know much about kids these days!” Margaret laughed. “Youre not nervous, taking them for that long? Mine drove me up the wallmy husband nearly sent them packing! But fine, bring them over. What else can we do? Theyre our grandsons, after all.”

When Thomas and Rebecca dropped off Oliver and Henry that weekend, the boys seemed cheerful, pleased to see their grandparents. Elizabeths worries eased.

What was Margaret going on about? Her grandsons must be the unruly ones. These two were polite, well-mannered, and brightnothing to fret over.

“Mum, just call if theres any trouble,” Thomas said as he left. But Elizabeth waved him off. “Oh, dont fuss, son. We raised you, didnt we?”

That evening, Oliver and Henry took ages to settle. Theyd been put in the spare roomThomass old bedroom. The change of scene had them restless, chattering loudly, keeping Victor awake.

“What possessed you to agree to this, Liz?” he grumbled. “They didnt need the countryside beforewhy now?”

Come morning, the boys refused to wake. By lunchtime, they were still asleep.

“Nana, just a bit longer,” Oliver mumbled.

Henry slept like a log, not even stirring when Elizabeth called.

“How long can they possibly sleep?” she fumed.

Then she spotted something on the floortheir phones.

“Were you two up all night on these? Thats it, Im taking them!”

Oliver bolted upright. “Give it back! Its not yours! Mum lets us!”

“Ill just ring her and ask, shall I?” Elizabeth shot back. Oliver sulked, stormed off, and slammed the door. “Go on, then!”

For two hours, the boys stayed shut away. Victor was ready to march inwhat sort of boycott was this on the very first day? But eventually, they emerged, scowling.

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

“Oh, you dont, do you?” Victor snapped. “Then go hungry. And have you made your beds? Lets have a look, thencrisp packets? Sweet wrappers in the sheets? Not a thing put away? Youve not earned a bite. Go ontidy up, then well talk about food.”

“You cant starve us!” Henry glowered. “Youre mean!”

Victor nearly lost his temper, but Elizabeth stepped in. “Right, Ill show you how to make the beds properly. Tomorrow, youll do it yourselves, agreed? And toastiesonly after porridge. Deal?”

“Youre spoiling them,” Victor muttered. “Look at the cheek on themno respect!”

The boys soon befriended Margarets grandsons. But the four of them together were a nightmare.

If they played in the garden, Elizabeth would later sneak out to collect the sticks and branches theyd left scattered. Flowers trampled, mud tracked inside, crumbs everywhere. Chairs wobbled from rough use, the front door banged so hard the hinges rattled.

“What sort of children are these?” Victor fumed. “Never again! If they cant behave, theyre not welcome back. Right, Olivercome help me fix your bikes. Nana and Henry will get lunch ready. Youll earn your keep.”

Oliver blinked. “Youre making us work for it?”

“What did you expect? You think I sit around all day? Nothing in lifes free, lad. And look at youripped trousers already! Lucky Nana kept your dads old clothes. Fancy new things dont just appearyouve got to work for them.”

“Dont be too hard on them,” Elizabeth warned Victor later. “You werent an angel at their age, if I recall!”

When their parents came to collect them, the boys couldnt wait to leave. “Grandad worked us to death! Wouldnt let us have our phones!”

But a week later, Thomas called, baffled. “Mum, Dadhow on earth did you manage it? Henry can peel potatoes and hoover now! Oliver does his own washing, chats more, makes his bedeven cooks a bit!”

Elizabeth huffed. “Were we supposed to wait on them hand and foot? They sulked all the way homedoubt theyll want to come back.”

Yet a year later, Oliver and Henry begged to return. Even turned down a holiday abroad. The village meant friends now.

And there was something satisfying about eating Nanas porridge and pastriesproperly earned.

Funny, that. Hard work gives you something to be proud of. Even bragging rights. And that? That feels good.

**Lesson learnt:** A bit of discipline never hurt anyonesometimes, its exactly what they need.