Why It Is Hard to be Picked On.

Growing up, almost all of my memories with my grandfather revolve around one of 2 things: either playing Hand and Foot or him picking on me. Almost all of them.

This is how the picking on would go. Grandpa would begin to torment me and then my Gramma would step in and go "Gene. Cut it out!" at which point Grandpa would stop picking on me, atleast for the next 10 minutes or so.

Now that my Gramma has passed away, it is so hard for me when he picks on me. Now he picks on me more because Kole eggs him on and gets a kick out of it, but I still wait for my Gramma to chime in and chastise him. Gramma and I were always a secret team. Now the picking on doesn't stop, and it often brings me to the brink of tears. Him "tickling me" or poking me or pulling my hair or yanking on my ears doesn't upset me - it's the fact that never again will my Gramma come to my rescue that always has the water works welling up in my tear ducts.

It's hard to be picked on.