She also took him for assorted hours over the weekend to give Molly a chance to do errands and nurture her love life. She bought a condo about two miles away and was available to babysit when the pre-school was closed or Jeremy wasn’t feeling well enough to go. The father was acknowledged, but had little to nothing to do with his son’s life, and Nana thought that it might be mutually beneficial after Grandpa died (Nana’s husband Frank) to be close to her only daughter and grandson. Nana had moved to South Kingston to be close to her daughter, Molly, who was a single working mother with an adored only son. As hard as it was, Nana preferred her own house and she thought it might do Jeremy some good to see how other people lived. Nana could, in fact, have taken care of Jeremy in his own house where he could indeed get Paw Patrol, but her daughter’s house was such a mess that she usually spent all afternoon cleaning and Jeremy spent all afternoon in front of the television (Paw Patrol). Nana did get PBS on her antenna, and so – if it were the right time of day – they could get Arthur or Curious George, but if they were boring, Jeremy would point at the television and scream “Paw Patrol!” at increasing decibel levels, until Nana finally turned the television off and directed him out to the car for a trip to the park or, if it had been a long afternoon, back to Mommy’s house. Jeremy eventually might eat a fluffernutter and Nana would feel bad on two counts – for arguing with a four-year-old and for giving in (with marshmallow fluff). Nana made a half-hearted attempt to explain that after Jeremy chewed them, he wouldn’t know the difference, but Jeremy was sure he would always know the difference. The hot dogs, of course, were in the wrong kind of bun – slit on the top rather than the side. “Don’t want it.” Now Jeremy pushed the plate away and looked like he was about to bolt out of the kitchen. “Here’s the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you wanted.” The conversation often went something like this: Nana followed suit, but against her better judgment. Mommy always was willing to substitute the original offering at least twice to get Jeremy to eat. Jeremy’s expression was similar to the one Nana got when he didn’t like what she served for lunch. Jeremy glared at Nana as if she was holding out on him. “Paw Patrol!” he would yell at the relatively small television screen, but without cable there was no Paw Patrol, nor any of the other fodder made to appeal to twenty-first century preschoolers. Jeremy seemed to like going to Nana’s house, but the four-year-old refused to understand he couldn’t watch his TV shows – at least not on demand.
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