My son, he’s… he just assumes. I retired last year, finally, after 30 years teaching. Thought I’d have time. To do things. Travel maybe. Or just read a book for a whole afternoon without someone needing something. But every single Friday night, his kids are dropped off. And every single Sunday night, picked up. It started, oh, a few months ago. He just drops them. Says “Thanks, ma, you’re the best.” Like it’s a given. Like I have NOTHING else. My husband, he just sighs. What can we say? He’s our son. And they’re our grandkids, sweet kids, really. But it’s not just a few hours. It’s the whole weekend. Every weekend. I love them. I do. But I’m tired. My knees ache by Sunday. I want to tell him. To say, no. Not this weekend. Or just, not every weekend. But how do you say that? In our culture, you help family. You don’t say no to your own son. It would be… disrespectful. He probably thinks I’m bored, sitting at home. That I have nothing better to do than chase a 5-year-old and help a 9-year-old with his video games. He doesn’t even ask. Just assumes. And I can’t tell him. Can’t. Am I the only one who feels this? Like you’re trapped? Like you want to shout, “I’m a person! I have my OWN life!” But you can’t. Because it’s family. And what if they get mad? What if he stops bringing them over altogether? Then I’d miss them. But then I’d also have my weekends back. Is that a bad thought? I feel like a terrible grandma just thinking it. Just typing it out here. God.