“Well, it’s beautiful,” Granny said. “Absolutely beautiful! What a beautiful watch you’ve given me!” She eyed the cardboard cut-out watch her granddaughter had just presented to her, then smiled at the child, whose eyes were big and brown, wide-eyed and hopeful. “Does it need batteries?”
The child looked a bit confused. “I guess so, Granny. Do most watches need batteries?”
“Usually, they do, yes,” she said as she continued to inspect the heartfelt gift. “I know! Let’s go to the jeweler and ask if he has special batteries for this beautiful watch!”
And with that, Grandmother and grandchild, sure as sugar, headed for the village jeweler.
As they entered the familiar shop, Granny smiled at Mr. Vinci, the shop owner.
“Mr. V,” Granny started, “my granddaughter, Alison, made me this beautiful watch, but I believe it needs batteries. Can you help us?”
Looking a bit confused, Mr. Vinci accepted the watch and inspected it more closely. “Let me see what I can do,” he said. He placed the watch on the counter, then went into the backroom for Lord knows what.
Alison observed the exchange, and—once Mr. Vinci disappeared behind the old tattered curtain—tugged at her grandmother’s sweater. “Granny, Granny!” she pleaded.
“What is it, my love?” Granny responded.
“The watch, Granny…”
“Yes, I know, sweetheart. It’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much for the lovely gift!”
The child looked concerned. “But Granny! The watch! It’s, it’s…it’s fake!”
Granny looked back at the tattered curtain, then to her wide-eyed grandchild. The twinkle in her eye would have clued in an older mark, one of her older grandchildren who had long ago caught on to her ways. But at merely six years of age, her youngest grandchild was convinced that her grandmother believed the watch was real. Granny grabbed the watch from the counter, looked back at her granddaughter, and said, “Then we better get out of here!”
The two darted from the corner jewelry store, holding their sides and laughing the two-block long walk home.
Finally, when laughter inevitably subsided, Alison slipped her tiny hand into her grandmother’s old, wrinkled one. “I hope you live forever, Granny,” the small child said. “My Mommy isn’t half as funny as you are.”
Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. This is a true story. May Granny rest in peace, and may Mom become more like her every day...