My parents, they sent me to Grandma's this summer.  They said it would do me some good.  They hoped I'd return at the end of vacation  behaving the way that I should.      My grandma is someone I love without measure,  but she can be terribly strict.  And so, when my folks chose a summertime sitter,  my grandma's the person they picked.      They packed me a suitcase and bought me a ticket.  My train left the station at four.  And sure as my grandma eats oatmeal for breakfast,  I quickly arrived at her door.      I thought I'd be taught about culture and manners  and find myself soundly corrected.  But  staying at Grandmother's house for the summer  is nothing like I had expected.      I grunt and I belch and I don't take a shower.  I act like a wild chimpanzee.  I'm living on cookies and ice cream and pizza  and watching late-late night TV.      My parents, they never told Grams I was coming.  I guess that is perfectly plain.  And Grandma, it seems, never told Mom and Dad  she was spending the summer in Spain.      Eric Ode