She Said I Was “Just a Babysitter”—So I Taught My Grandson Something No One Else Could
After retiring, I’ve been babysitting my three-dot grandson, Niko, which I love since I live alone. My daughter-in-law, Eleni, plans to hire a professional to “teach him something,” and I overheard her mockingly call me “just a babysitter with snacks.” Hurt but silent, I kept a journal of Niko’s moments—sorting buttons, asking about the sun, making cloud mobiles. When Eleni enrolled Niko in a learning center, my time with him dropped. Still, I noted his curiosity, like when he asked why the moon follows the car.
At brunch, Eleni raved about Niko’s “new” skills, like mixing colors, which we’d done months ago. Later, she asked for my journal, moved by the depth of our bond. She apologized for underestimating me, and we grew closer, starting “Story Day Sundays” where Niko and I wrote books together. Eleni’s sister, who’d laughed at me, sent a letter saying my journal showed “love is learning.” Niko’s notes and words—“you make everything feel like a game and a hug”—reaffirmed my role. I’m no certified teacher, but I’m a bridge, a memory-maker, a safe place. Teaching Niko he’s loved and curious is enough.
