“What did she bring this time?” This is the question I inevitably face from my partner after my mum has come to visit. And there’s always the same response: more toys. Sometimes it’s also clothes. Occasionally, there are farmyard-themed biscuits. My mum visits around once a month, and there’s always at least one gift for my son, normally more.
Obviously, my three-year-old son thinks this is fantastic, but has, understandably, recently come to expect it: “Does Granny have a present for me?” he’ll ask as we’re driving to the station to collect her. “Wait and see,” I say with a sigh, already mentally playing through the argument my partner and I will have later.
My partner is worried my mum is spoiling our son. Not only will this detract from the joy our son receives from gifts at birthdays or Christmas, but he also worries it will cause him to be entitled and ungrateful. My partner believes less is more when it comes to toys; not least because of the harmful environmental impact of plastic, but also because of a deeply rooted belief that kids simply don’t need that much stuff. He argues it gets in the way of imaginative play and teaches greed.
I agree on the environmental front, of course, but also because of the evidence we’ve seen firsthand, alongside the actual evidence out there that suggests boredom fosters creativity, resilience and problem-solving skills. Nothing pleases my son more than an empty cardboard box and an old tennis ball he found in his grandparents’ garage. He’s happiest outside picking up stones or building a car from the sofa cushions. In my limited experience, kids don’t need an excessive amount of things; they need someone to play with, someone to hear their ideas, or marvel at the space-mountain-tower they’ve built from the same blocks they’ve played with a million times. For my toddler, no toy could beat a giant stick or a game of chase.
But I understand why my mum is doing what she is. This is her only grandchild. She adores him. She wants to spoil him, make him happy, and win his favour. Of course, he is most pleased when she’s simply there, pretending he is a cushion she’s about to nap on, which never fails to floor him in a fit of giggles. Whatever was excitedly pulled out of her bag on arrival is actually quickly disregarded for these simple, silly and repetitive games. He adores her, too, but it’s for the play, not for the presents. Despite that, I don’t want to deny her the joy of shopping for her grandchild, the pleasure of choosing a jumper or a car that she thinks he’ll like, and seeing his face light up when she gives it to him.
Equally, I don’t want to undermine my partner’s parenting values, all of which I totally I agree with. I don’t want a spoiled son, either. I believe completely in the power of boredom and teaching my son that this world isn’t about what he has, but play with friends, creativity, connection, ideas and people.
This leaves me caught in the middle – trying to stay true to my own values and respectful of my partner’s wishes, while also not denying joy to my mother. I end up pleasing no one – except for my son when he gets another piece of Duplo or a book about tractors.
This is not a dilemma unique to my family. Our butcher tells me his wife is forever buying their grandchild clothes, much to his son’s dismay. “We don’t have the room!” his son berates him.
A friend complains that whenever she picks her two girls, four and six, up from their grandparents’ house after a stint of much-appreciated babysitting, the kids recount tales of sugary drinks and cake. “My mum’s doing me a huge favour by taking the kids every week, so I don’t want to complain, but why does she insist on giving them so much s***!” I wonder out loud if that isn’t what grandparents are meant to do; spoil their grandkids with all the stuff they’re not usually allowed. My friend looks appalled. “You’re as bad as them! Plus, my parents don’t have to deal with bathtime and bed when they are completely wired on sugar!” My friend says she’s put her foot down on the fizzy drinks but feels a bit mean about the home-made cakes. ‘It’s a labour of love. How can I deny her that?”
Rather more dramatically, I hear of one grandmother who keeps buying her grandchildren tickets to shows in the West End, often on school nights. This is causing no end of grief as children are desperate to go, but it’s starting to affect school because they are so tired the next day. The grandmother is certain it’s an education in its own right, and with the large slice of childcare she does for the family, feels she is entitled to make that decision and take them.
But another parent I spoke to argues that it’s all still preferable to having your parents accuse you of spoiling your own children and insinuating your parenting is lazy and irresponsible: “Plus, they’re saving you a lot of money with all these clothes and toys, aren’t they?!”
She’s right: as problems go, it’s a nice one to have. While I wholeheartedly agree on the issues of too much plastic and not enough space in our home, I’m not sure my son will be spoiled if it’s only happening with his granny. I can remember visiting my grandmother and knowing only too well that a Mars ice cream before lunch was not something I could expect at home. My partner and I work hard to stop my son from walking into a shop and demanding anything he sees. We’re well practised in saying no, while still indulging when it feels right, like buying him a toy manta ray after his first aquarium visit or giving him a new book on World Book Day.
When my son is older, the conversation may change. But at just turned three, the extra toys from granny feel rather harmless. As long as he still sits in a cardboard box and tells me it’s a swimming pool, or carries the rock he found on an Italian beach like it’s dinosaur fossil, or wears the badge he made at a recent visit to a castle with all the pride of a medal, I know we’re doing okay.
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