'This is crazy.'
'I know, Emma. I haven't forgotten. It's only ten minutes since you last told me.'
I admire your slim figure before you turn around from looking through the window and glare at me. 'I should be out there with my mates.'
'I'm not stopping you. Go.'
You slump down on the sofa. 'No, Mom said I have to stay in and keep you company.'
'Emma, I'm babysitting you, not you looking after me, apart from which, I'm happy to be alone with my crossword. Go out with your girlfriends.'
'I'm eighteen! I don't need a babysitter. It's crazy.' You jump up and storm out of the lounge.
I sigh and return my attention to 12 down.
Five minutes later, you return with a coke and collapse next to me. 'You need any help, Grandad?'
'Sure, if you want.'
I feel the softness of your long brown hair against my cheek as you move closer to look at the newspaper. 'Which clue are you working on?'
'12 down, six letters, 'Dirk from a ragged roundabout.' I have the third letter. It's g.'
You take a slurp of coke. 'Nipple.'
I frown. 'You spell it with a g?'
You giggle. 'OK, maybe not. Try vagina.'
'Emma, if you're not going to take this serious, do something else.'
'What's wrong with vagina, Grandad? Have you forgotten what one is?'
'It has no connection with the clue.'
You jump up and scowl at me. 'You're no fun and I'm stuck with you all weekend. Fuck!'
'I know you're angry I'm here, Emma, but I'm simply doing your parents a favour.'
You pull your t-shirt up and flash me. 'I guess you've also forgotten what these are for. Seven letters, B-R-E-A-S-T-S'
I'm tempted to respond to your taunt, but restrain myself. You glare at me for a moment before you rush out and tramp up the stairs. 'You're as bad as Mom,' you scream as the bed room door slams.
I return to my crossword, but it's difficult to concentrate with the vision of your perfect breasts filling my thoughts. 'Damn you, Emma,' I hiss.
...
It's 1.00 am and sleep is impossible with lusty thoughts of my brat grand-daughter's pert breasts. At length, I give up and leave my bed.