I guess it is possible to be a subversive grandparent, that is, to undo, at least in part, some of your adult children's best efforts at acting like fit parents.

A friend recently related an example of his own having to do with peanut butter sandwiches. Number two son and his two sons were visiting. Unbeknownst to grandpa, son in his dad role had packed the standard peanut butter sandwich lunch entree for his children. Thinking that the young ones were lunch-less, grandpa offered to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all around. The grandkids quickly took up grandpa's offer and could not be swayed when their dad insisted that the lunch he had so dutifully brought from home would do. The grandkids held their ground that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches made by grandpa were far superior to anything coming out of their home kitchen. This matter required further exploration and verification. Were the grandkids just trying to butter up grandpa in order to set him up so that he would be in no position to reject a petition at some future date or were they speaking truth to power--rightfully acknowledging a superior PB&J sandwich?

As grandpa went about the culinary task of assembling the sandwiches, the differences quickly became clear. The grandkids were given the opportunity to observe the creative process first hand and the crucial components of a superior PB&J sandwich were promptly noted. First off, there was a new ingredient--butter--applied to the bread prior to the application of peanut butter. Secondly, there was the choice of peanut butter. The co-op brand of peanut butter was not to be seen in grandpa's kitchen. This is the kind that is all peanuts and nothing but peanuts. In grandpa's kitchen, Skippy remains the unchallenged lord of the nut butters. True to the tasteful memories of his own childhood, grandpa refuses to transition away from the taste acquired during his own childhood--nut butter augmented by some ingenious particular process and some secret and other not so secret ingredients. Apparently, the bread and jam components were not contributing elements in the superior rating of said sandwiches.

I hope to discover at some future date, if there has continued to be two versions of the PB&J sandwich for these youngsters--the home kitchen version and grandpa's kitchen version--or if one version becomes the standard for both kitchens. I am putting my "ants on a log" on grandpa's version.

A few years back, when I was dispatched to do the grocery shopping in advance of a grandson's visit I augmented the cheerios on the grandma prepared list with a small box of Trix. A little color is a celebratory thing. At grandpa's house a cheerios snack was thereby able to take on added pizazz. What happened to the last of that box of Trix? They were commingled with cheerios in a small zip lock bag for snacking in the car during the trip home. That becomes another level of subversiveness, when grandpa proposes to exercise influence beyond the confines of grandma and grandpa's house.