my grandmother essay

Essay About Grandmothers

500 words essay on grandmothers.

Most of us have been blessed with grandmothers. But, some of us are lucky enough to have spent more time with them compared to others. Grandmothers are a blessing in disguise as they shower our love on us and guide us through the right path. Through essay about grandmothers, we will take a look at how strong they are.

Angels in Disguise

Grandmothers are sweet little in disguise for all grandchildren. They go through all the pain and put in the effort to get all the work done for their grandchildren. Their hearts are made of gold as they treat all her grandchildren equally.

Even when we face restrictions, they are always there to support us. A lot of times, our parents give us the no signal but it is our grandmothers who try to turn that no into yes. This is their greatness and love for us.

Whether it is our father’s mother or mother’s mother, both grandmothers give equal love. It is because of them that we get to eat such delicious meals. Nothing can compare the taste of grandmother’s food .

Often, they do not tell us about their struggles but keep a happy face to make us happy. Even though our grandmothers have endured a lot, they never let that come to the surface. They always protect us no matter what.

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A Shining Example

My grandmother is a shining example of the person I wish to be. She is over five feet tall and very kind. Her sweet demeanour helps us win over anyone’s heart she comes across. As a child, I always used to hold her delicate and soft hands.

She has stories, a lot of them. She has been through different times, worlds and hardships, but still remains strong as ever. Even though she has grown up time apart from me, she always makes sure to keep up with me to not miss out on anything.

I simply love watching her savour her food and cherish it. She is often the first one to the dinner table but always the last one to leave. She makes sure no one eats alone so she sits till the very end. The patient lady that my grandmother is.

I enjoy spending my afternoons with her, sitting by the window and resting. She sips on tea slowly while I listen to the stories she tells me. All the fascinating stories about her childhood and her siblings.

My grandmother is a wonderful woman who has taught me compassion and sincerity. I owe all my gentleness and empathy to her. I hope she gets to live a long and healthy life full of love and warmth.

Conclusion of the  Essay about Grandmothers

Thus, the great women to impact our lives don’t have to be celebrities. They are our grandmothers who with their personal stories and struggles create a legacy which fosters wonderfully passionate children. I see my grandmother and am reminded of myself, how she lives inside me and makes me stronger each day.

FAQ of Essay about Grandmothers

Question 1: Why grandmothers are so special?

Answer 1: Grandmothers are special because they love their grandchildren to the moon and back. Sometimes, they love them even more than they love their own children. She does everything to see her grandchildren happy. A grandmother’s love is strong, pure and unconditional.

Question 2: What are the responsibilities of grandmothers?

Answer 2: The role of grandmothers in family life is ever-changing. They don many hats, from mentor to historian, to a loving companion and to child-care provider. They are the ones who give their grandchildren a sense of security of belonging to the extended family .

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How To Write An Essay On My Grandmother For Classes 1, 2 and 3

Key Points to Remember When Writing an Essay on ‘My Grandmother’

10-sentence essay on ‘my grandmother’, short essay on ‘my grandmother’ for children, long paragraph on ‘my grandmother’ for kids, what your 1st, 2nd or 3rd grader will learn from the essay.

There is something strikingly comforting about the word grandmother for all of us; that caring and nurturing woman in our lives because of whom we had a wonderful childhood. Most children have the privilege of knowing their grandparents. While some kids are raised in joint families, some only see them during holidays. But in both cases, they are bound to have a special bond with their grandmothers. Expressing this bond in an essay on ‘My Grandmother’ is thus likely to be an easy and joyous experience for some kids, but some might need guidance. In this article, we will help your child with some helpful ideas and tips to write short and long essays on the topic. Let’s begin with the key points!

Most schools are likely to ask their first, second, and third graders to write an essay on ‘My Grandmother’. Check out these pointers on how to approach the topic:

• For short, one-line essays on ‘My Grandmother’, write one-line facts about your grandmother, her role in the family, and the bond you share with her.
• When writing short paragraph essays, talk about why your grandmother is special and all the fun activities you engage with her.
• For longer essays on your grandmother, you can add more details about her life, such as her past in the family and some of her qualities. Continue with how she is important to your family and end with how she is a role model for everyone.

It is always a fun activity for first and second graders to write about their grandmothers, but writing an essay needs them to organise their thoughts before penning them down. Here are a few ideas to write a short 10-line essay on the topic:

• My grandmother is the sweetest, most caring person in the world.
• She has taken care of all of us since we were babies.
• My grandmother knows all of my favourite food, favourite toys, and TV shows.
• She is also an amazing cook. She prepares delicious meals every day.
• Granny is seventy-five years old and has beautiful white hair.
• My grandmother is the head of our family, and everybody listens to her because she has a lot of wisdom.
• She loves watching TV and play with me during the evenings. We also go for walks every day in the neighbourhood.
• Granny is a strong but kindhearted woman who wishes good things for everyone.
• She takes care of me when I’m unwell, and knows all the right foods to make me feel better and strong.
• My grandmother is also my best friend. I love her very much.

Kids can never run out of things to say about their grandmother. Here is a short essay to learn how to put your ideas together:

My grandmother is seventy years old. She is a very kind woman who has raised all of us since we were babies. My grandmother is the head of the house, and everybody respects her. She is the first person to wake me up every morning, and every night she tucks me in bed and reads me a bedtime story. In the mornings, she helps me get ready for school by helping me arrange my school bag in order and packing my lunch. She is also the person who helps me study in the evenings before sitting with me to watch cartoons.

My grandmother is a strong and pious woman. She says her beliefs give her strength. After sending me to school, she goes about her day helping my mother in the kitchen and maintaining the house. My grandmother is also an amazing cook. She knows old recipes for food that are delicious. My friends love to eat any dish that’s prepared by my grandmother. Every evening, she helps me change after I return from school. After her tea, we go for a walk in the colony and return home for snacks and homework. It is difficult for all of us to imagine our lives with her. She is the string that holds us together. I love her very much.

Children in class 3 can usually write longer essays by properly expressing themselves in written language. Here’s an example of how you can write an essay on the topic:

My grandmother is the most important person in our family. She is seventy years old and very healthy for her age. She inspires us to live a healthy lifestyle. She goes for a walk in the morning and evening to maintain remain fit. She eats healthy foods and rests when she feels the need. Her philosophy is that health is the greatest wealth. If one has health, everything else is achievable.

My grandmother is the head of our family. She raised my father under tough conditions to become a responsible person who is dependable and admired by all. My grandmother raised me too since I was a baby. She is an educated woman who served the government until she retired at 60 to spend time with us. Although she is strict about things sometimes, she is a kindhearted woman who wishes the best for everyone. My grandmother is a tough woman who is respected in our family and community. My grandfather always says that he is lucky to have her in his life as she is an inspiration for him.

My grandmother is a very calm and composed woman. She has a good judgment about the world. She never loses her temper. She has a very smart way of approaching challenges and often advises everyone in the family during tough times. Although she comes from an older generation, she tries to keep up with everything new. She can operate her smartphone without needing too much help as she is educated and can find her way. Whenever she needs help, she doesn’t mind asking for assistance from other people.

We feel lucky to have our grandmother in the family as she is the pillar of moral support for everyone. She keeps the family together and well in order. I wish to be just like my grandmother and respected in society when I grow up.

By writing an essay on ‘My Grandma’, children will learn the importance of grandparents and their role in their lives. Essay writing helps lay the foundation for expression through writing, and children will learn how to observe, recollect, and articulate their thoughts about their grandmothers. By being prepared for the topic, your child will easily write good essays in tests and exams.

To write a good essay, encourage your child to stick to the facts and elaborate upon how their grandma is important in everyone’s life. While most of the points to write about will come from your child’s own experience and observation, reading these short essays will help them explore more ideas and be prepared for their next essay writing assignment.

Essay on My Grandfather for Grade 1, 2, and 3 My Father Essay for Class 1, 2 and 3 Children Essay On ‘My Parents’ for Lower Primary Classes

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Essay on “My grandmother” Complete Essay for Class 10, Class 12 and Graduation and other classes.

Essay No. 01

My grandmother

My grandmother is a godless in the form of a woman. The sole aim other life is service and sacrifice. Thus she deserves claims and commands and respect in our family.

My grandmother is the busiest member of the family. She is the most important wheel in the family vehicle. She is the lady who nurses and looks after the children. She is a religious woman. Soon after getting up before dawn, she takes her bath and absorbs herself in prayer. She reads holy books and recites in a sing song manner while sitting before the temple that she has set up in the house.

My grandmother is good cook. She loves to prepare meals and serve delicious food tall members of the family. She infect, acts like a machine. The time between 1 P.M. and 4 P.M. is reserved for sewing and needle working spite of her age. She is a healthy and stout lady. She looks after every work of the house. We therefore love her very much. We all consult her in all matters to the family. Thus our family affairs are running smoothly, there is no difficulty before us. There is no quarrel among us.

She is very kind and considerate. She is very bard working. She never wastes a single moment of her life. She is always busy in this work or that work. Thus our family is progressing by leaps and bounds under her guidance. She takes care of us. She is not fond of showy clothes or ornaments. She is very hospitable. She is an ideal and pious lady. She has a great love for the motherland.

Essay No. 02

My Grandmother

Any Old Woman

A Senior Citizen

My grandmother’s name is Mrs. Sushila Rani. She is a very old lady.  She may be .a hundred years old or somewhere around it. She does  not exactly know her age. She does not know her date of birth. She has  never celebrated her birthday.

She has silver white hair. She has lost all her teeth. Her eyesight is  very weak. Even with the spectacles on her nose, she cannot see very  clearly. Sometimes, she takes a small bundle of black woollen article  for a cat and cries out to scare it away.

She always keeps mumbling something behind her lips. We guess  that she is always praying to God. She is an illiterate lady. She is a very  superstitious lady. She has a firm faith in God. She worships the idols  both in the morning and in the evening.

She is very weak, She walks with a stick. Even with the stick she can’t walk much. She laments that she is no longer able to go to the temple. She spends much of her time in bed.

 She suffers from so many ailments. Sometimes, she has cough. Sometimes, she feels a severe pain in her legs, stomach or head. But she has a great power of tolerance. When she has any trouble, she prays to God instead of weeping, crying and moaning. Still, rarely she has bouts of depression when she recalls her childhood and youth. It is very surprising that even though her memory has gone very weak, she can recall clearly certain happenings of her life. Even if she is illiterate, she exhorts me to pay full attention to my studies. Though she loves all mankind, she loves me in particular and hugs me off and on. I also love her dearly and try to help her in walking and other activities. May she live for many more years!

Essay No. 03

My Grand Mother

My grandmother is very dear to me. She is an old woman. My grandmother’s name is Mrs. Santosh Gupta.

She is sixty-five years old. Even at this age she is very active. She takes care of my every need.

She gets up early in the morning. She is a religious lady. Her hair is white as snow. She is tall and thin. She wears clean and loose clothes.

She is very nice lady. She is old but dear to everybody. She supervises all important jobs in the family. She is simple in every way. She eats very little food.

My parents seek her advice in all matters. She likes to see religious films. She is always seen praying to God.

At night, she tells me stories. She also asks me to pay attention to my studies. She loves me very much. I love her very much. May she live long and make my life comfortable!

About evirtualguru_ajaygour

commentscomments

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My grandmother is the best grandmother in world. I love my grandmother very much. This essay is best.

Grandmother name is very joy ful name in the world Grand mother is my life This essay is perfect every child

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It is very useful to me and thx for helping me

Thanks for helping me it’s very useful

I just wish my grandmother is still live.Thanks it help me so much

Superb essay on grandmother I love my grandmother I love u so much

This is very nice essay Tq for this essay Evirtualguru.com

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Grandma is my story-teller.

I am nothing she is everything

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Am inspirating by you

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I love my grandmother very much and I will go her home every day

its to good

THE ESSAY IS VERY UNIQUE

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My Grandmother Essay for Children and Students

December 10, 2017 by Study Mentor Leave a Comment

Woman dressed up, in wrinkles

The beautiful short woman, with a pale skin, having wrinkles all over the body, always left me stunned. How can one look so beautiful in a wrinkled skin? Well, the lady with the pale face, wrinkled skin, was wearing the most beautiful yellow traditional dress with the combination of orange; looks as if the sun and moon together spreading their brightness. Is my grandmother standing there? Oh! Yes it was my grandmother who was standing in the deep dark down of the night with all the brightness in her eyes.

My grandmother is one of the most beautiful women of my life. Who has not yet spent 100 years of life but of course 80 year of life span .My grandmother is full of religious thoughts. She believes that at attaining certain age a person should get involve himself or herself in god, in order to achieve salvation.

She believes that believing in god leads you to a certain positive energy which is further a basic principle of life. My grandmother do not believe the world of modernization as she believes that we are only copying the west countries and not trying to bring in our own method of modernization. She thinks the most important aspect of modernization is cleanliness, which India is far behind.

Table of Contents

Who is a grandmother?    

To understand the literal meaning of a grandmother, she  is a mother of the    father, but the word ‘grandmother’ has a much better meaning in one’s life, she is not only the mother of the father, but yes a person who always loves, takes care of the entire family, always try to lead you on right paths. For men may come, men may go, but a grandmother should never let be gone.

 Old is gold

It is rightly said that ‘old is gold’ the line helps me to explain well that being old, beautiful young and what not, she; my grandmother has always proved to be more than a gold in our lives. I have some most beautiful childhood memories with her, from helping her in household chores to not letting her to be alone when everyone not at home.

I have spent the most beautiful moments of life with my grandmother; from fighting with the siblings to sleep with her, or to ask for extra token of money than others, crying for each other when one had to leave, to not letting her stand with anyone else and even today after my marriage though we do not live together but the bond which we share is above all.

I feel the most luckiest that my marriage could happen in front of my grandparents and their blessings. Only some people could fulfill this desire.

Her lessons were always a blessing!

She has always tried to teach me the world of practicality, where she has always told me, how being a woman I can deal my life smoothly and correctly. Often, I’d wonder how anyone could live so long without much expectation from life neither with much health problems.

Then I remember that ‘ dadi ’ once told me, my fitness mantra is keep going and keep working as much as possible. Working hard keeps bringing new energies in us, and we do not become lazy. My grandmother is fond of animals, and have always taught me that no one can be a better friend than an animal, they will always stand by you and never betray.

So, therefore my grandmother has one buffalo, a dog, a rabbit and lots of pigeons. With them she tries to spend her most of the time. I am always compelled by myself to think will I ever be able to achieve what my grandmother has achieved all this while. Of course it’s a No but, will always try and understand her lessons, as they have always led me out of my difficult situations.

We are here

Let’s let them know that we are always there whenever they need us, let’s let them know that they have always lived for us and they have done a lot for us. Now it’s our turn to fulfill their wishes, though they do not expect much, but only a little care, a little attention and lots of love is what all they need. And they will fill our life with lots of brightness and happiness.

It is said that when old people live with you one have more disciplined, controlled life without much problems. A much more organised life is being lived. It is the truth that god is present in this world, it is us who have to find him in the form our parents, grandparents and children.

And talking about my grandmother, she has always been a god like personality in my life. I do not want to thank her, indeed want to tell her that I love her the most. She has been one of the greatest inspiration of life and her blessings were always a support to my life.

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I Admire My Grandmother (Essay Sample)

I admire my grandmother.

Everybody has one influential person in one’s lives. Personally, my grandmother is the most influential person in my life whom I admire. My grandmother assisted me to grow into a caring, smart, and friendly person and that has really helped me to be the person that I am today. Many people have a pleasant relationship with their parents. However, I am a special case because the one person I have always had a pleasant relationship with is my dear grandmother. She is a wonderful woman and one unique trait about her is that she has never lost her sense of humor. She laughs all the jokes I make and that draws me close to her even more. She has always been the person to trust and I never keep any secrets from her. Because of her positive personality, my home is peaceful and rich of laughter. My grandmother is truly an amazing woman .This paper thrives to describe my grandmother and the things she has done in my life that makes me admire her.

My granny is a special person because she is kind to every person she meets. She raised her children and taught them to be kind, honest, brave, and pleasant people. Anybody who happens to know my granny knows that she is truly friendly and fun to talk to. One thing about her that I make fun of her the most is, she is short in height such that whenever I stand close to her I would actually have to look down. She is a beautiful woman and her smile can brighten the entire room and she has a self assured posture even though she is short. She is caring and forgiving because I once broke her favorite vessel and instead of her getting furious with me she forgave and advised me to be always careful. Another unique thing about her is that she is very patient with people and she is not even tampered. She is someone who is always free to listen like she has this gift of talking less but listening much. She doesn’t jump to accusations without proof and she doesn’t count on speculations but facts; what a granny.

My grandmother is an outgoing person, compassionate, and brilliant person who had no self image. My granny can well be a perfect example of a counselor because she is always advising people me included. She has always shown and advised me to do things in the right way. She has frequently insisted people ought to be discipline; doing what is right, what is just, and what is fair. I personally am a believer and a strong religious person because my grandmother too is a religious person and she always insisted that humanity would not exist on earth without the grace of God. Whenever I had a problem with friends in school or relationship issues, she is always there to support and hold my hands. She could play some music when am doing homework and still I could the hear tune of the music she played and all I remember are those wonderful moments of my granny.

In conclusion, everybody has one influential person in one’s lives and personally, my grandmother is the most influential person in my life whom I admire. I am fortunate because the one person I have always had a pleasant relationship with is my dear grandmother. Because of her I am the person I am today and I thank God for giving me such a big blessing in my life. My granny has always been a jewel that I will always treasure and praise for the rest of my life.

My grandmothers had a 24-year age gap. The difference in our relationships taught me youth and health aren't the same.

• Jessica Knurick was close with her 70-year-old grandmother.
• Her 46-year-old grandma was stern and less involved with the grandkids.
• She says personality and health, not age, play the biggest role in relationships with grandparents.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with astrophotographer Jessica Knurick . It has been edited for length and clarity.

My Grandma Anne, my dad's mom, was 70 years old when I was born . My Grandma Marie, my mom's mom, was 46. When people hear that, they assume that Marie, being young and lively, was much more involved. That couldn't be further from the truth: I was incredibly close with Anne, while my relationship with Marie never felt intimate.

These days there's a lot of debate over the merits of being an older mom or a younger mom. By extension, people think about whether older grandparents will be around through their grandkids' lives, or whether younger grandparents will play a more active role.

I've learned that whether it's parenting or grandparenting, age really is just a number.

My older grandma was energetic and warm

Anne gave birth to my dad when she was 44 . She'd had her first child 17 years earlier, and everyone knew my dad was an accident — or, to use the more polite term, a "surprise."

Despite being an older mom and older grandma, Anne was always energetic and full of life. She was a constant for me throughout my childhood and into my young adult years. As a kid, I loved going to her house for sleepovers or when she'd pick me up for an outing.

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We would play checkers and just talk, or eat gummy bears. She was a gifted storyteller and I loved hearing everything that had changed during her lifetime. It seemed amazing to me that she was born in 1917.

My young grandma was still parenting and working

My maternal grandma, Marie, was just 46 when I was born. Interestingly, her mom was the exact age of my older grandma , Anne. One of my uncles had just turned 20, and Marie was still in the later stages of parenting. She had a full-time job, and it just felt like she had less time and attention to give to her grandkids.

I saw Marie often. She only lived about a mile away and my mom would bring us over to visit often. But the closeness was never there. She was closed off and stern, so I remember being a bit afraid of her as a kid.

My older grandma took care of herself, but my younger grandma didn't

One of the biggest differences between my grandmas is how they took care of themselves . Anne was super active. I don't mean that she went to the gym, but she was always out and about. I often tried to call her and got the answering machine because she was out walking, going to church functions, or visiting friends. She taught me how to take care of myself, from applying face creams to eating nutritiously, and she also inspired my decision to become a registered dietician.

Marie, on the other hand, was always either at work or at home. There was no community around her days. She ate unhealthy foods and smoked for her whole life, even after developing lung issues.

Despite their 24-year age difference, my grandmas died quite close together. Anne was 97, but Marie was only in her 70s.

I've learned that good grandparenting isn't related to age

As a dietician, I've focused my work on caring for pregnant and postpartum people. I see a lot of debate about whether it's better to be an older or younger mom. I shared the story about my grandmas in response to some of that debate.

Anne and Marie show that age isn't all that matters when it comes to nurturing loving relationships with our kids and grandkids. We need to take care of ourselves so we have the energy to match theirs. We need to be open and loving, and make them feel safe. That can happen at any age.

Watch: Here's what descendants of 5 former presidents say about the role age plays in politics

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Scientists Say "Grandma Brain" Isn't Just in Your Head

MRIs reveal that grandmothers may feel more emotional empathy toward their grandkids than they did with their own kids.

My son-in-law recently introduced me to his friend the following way: “This is Kate. She’s an interesting person and a good conversationalist … unless Anne is in the room. In that case, don’t even try.”

Anne is my toddler-aged granddaughter, and I am guilty as charged. Something happens to me when I’m with her. I’m enchanted. Bewitched. Besotted.

It turns out that this isn’t just love, though there’s plenty of that. I’m experiencing “Grandma Brain.” That’s not a technical term, but there is a scientific explanation for what’s going on. Neurological research has shown that something unique happens to our brains when we see our grandchildren — and it may explain our intense devotion and delight.

“What really jumps out in the data is the activation in areas of the brain associated with emotional empathy,” Rilling says. “That suggests that grandmothers are geared towards feeling what their grandchildren are feeling when they interact with them. If their grandchild is smiling, they’re feeling the child’s joy. And if their grandchild is crying, they’re feeling the child’s pain and distress.”

Retired teacher Janet Meisel, who has three grandsons, wrote an essay on Medium with a title that’s a near-perfect illustration of the heightened emotional empathy that Rilling’s study revealed. Titled “Are Grandparents Supposed To Feel This Much Love?” her subtitle reads, “Sometimes it feels like my heart will burst with joy and sometimes with pain.”

Reflecting on the difference between being a mom and a grandma, Meisel writes, “I had given my children so much of myself, but this feeling was different. It was love on steroids.”

What makes the new research particularly interesting is that the grandmothers’ brains did not light up in the same areas when women looked at pictures of their own children. When photos of their offspring were shown to the same women, a different area was activated, one associated with cognitive empathy. With cognitive empathy, a person can understand what another is feeling and why. But with emotional empathy, a person experiences what someone else is feeling.

That’s no surprise to Nancy Claus, a Connecticut grandmother of two. “It’s like a melting,” she says, sighing. “Isabella’s just at this magical stage where you hold her, she looks into your eyes, locks on you, and just bursts into this smile. She’s just wiggling with happiness all over and then I feel so happy, just flooded with this warm, delightful feeling.”

Grandparents tend to joke, “If I’d known how great it would be to be a grandparent, I’d have done it before I had kids.” This sentiment has less to do with brain activity than it does with the relationship. (“I can enjoy the kid and then hand them back.”) Grandparents, of course, have less responsibility than parents. Combine that with heightened emotional empathy swirling around in their brains and a “don’t sweat the small stuff” sensibility of many older folks, and it makes for a joyful ride.

“I could have a terrible day or a wonderful day, but as soon as I walk into the room with my grandson or my granddaughter, anything that happened before just dissipates,” says Melanie Schaffran, a New York grandmother. “I’m in complete rapture. Not to say I’m not aware of the mess being created, but it doesn’t matter.”

For mothers and fathers, mess does matter. Parents are often up to their ears in work stress, financial stress, kid stress, eldercare stress and everything else pulling on them at the stage of life when kids are young.

“I don’t even remember that life,” says Marti Gallardo, a Texas grandmother of three, with two more on the way. “We were just so busy.” Gallardo, now retired from her career in advertising sales, chatted while covered in “green apple peel spit.” She was watching her 14-month-old granddaughter, Clare, who only likes the inside of apples. As a grandma — and a woman who was no longer has to rush to work looking professional nor worry about if the baby is eating the right foods — Gallardo was relaxed.

Rilling’s original research was conducted in 2021. His study included placing 50 grandmothers in MRI machines and observing their reactions to photos of grandchildren who ranged from ages three to 12. The women were also shown photos of their own biological children as adults, as well as pictures of unknown people of all ages.

The data is still being analyzed. Currently, Rilling is studying saliva samples to see whether grandmothers have more oxytocin — nicknamed “the love hormone” for the good feeling it produces — compared to women of the same age who are not grandmothers. His team is also exploring if being a grandmother affects the rate at which the brain ages, with the hypothesis that it slows the process. He also hopes to conduct longitudinal studies by taking brain images and studying hormones before and after women become grandmothers. Rilling also plans to study the brains of grandfathers.

The biology of grandparents is “unexplored territory,” Rilling says. “A lot of research on older people’s brains is in the context of pathology and degeneration. Here we’re looking at healthy older brains and what they may have been designed for.” He believes his is the first study to examine grandmothers’ brain activity.

That said, other non-neurological studies have made the connection between being an active grandparent and better health. AARP conducted a comprehensive survey of grandparents and in its summary refers to grandkids as “the elixir of life.” Benefits include a more physically active lifestyle, more sociability and improved mental well-being.

The Berlin Aging Study , which tracked health outcomes of more than 500 people ages 70 and older, found that grandparents who helped care for their grandchildren had lower mortality rates over a 20-year period than those who did not. Plenty of research has also documented the benefits to grandchildren of having grandparents in their lives.

Why have grandmother’s brains evolved as they have? As an anthropologist as well as a psychologist, Rilling speculates that close grandmaternal bonds make it easier for parents to reproduce and continue the species. Or to put it in everyday terms, if parents have some help with the first baby , they’re more likely to go for number two. Or three.

That may explain another facet of intense grandmother love. The recognition of past, present and future in a grandchild’s face. “I see little bits of my mother in Olivia already,” Claus says of her 2-year-old granddaughter. “I don’t want to burst into singing ‘Circle of Life’ here, but it’s seeing your genes passing on and moving to the future. Seeing the next generation, the continuity, just brings a contentment.”

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The Spinoff

The Sunday Essay Today at 5.00am

The sunday essay: my genderfluid god.

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Some thoughts on my queer and Sikh identities, and how they mesh and collide.

The Sunday Essay  is made possible thanks to the support of Creative New Zealand.

S undays were exciting, as they promised crispy bread pakora and chai over Punjabi chatter. If I was lucky, there would be jelabi, an orange spiral of sweet goodness prepped in the hot, crowded kitchen. I’d gulp it down in a single bite, sitting under the paintings of martyrs being scalped and buried alive. 

Afterwards, I’d run into the kitchen with sticky hands and an empty plate. I could feel the heat on the hairs of my arms from the giant puddle of oil in the wok; hear the sound of metal clanging against heads of garlic; see the kind face of a man pouring more water into the refill zone and turbans shining under the fluorescent lighting. The langar hall promised a warm meal for all. 

My nani (maternal grandmother in Punjabi), with her round sunglasses and white shawls, hoisted me onto her knees to tell me stories of Sikhi and the origins of langar. Guru Nanak Dev Ji, the first Sikh guru of ten, was given 21 rupees to start a business. He met weary and tired religious travellers on his way to the city. He offered to give them money, but they said receiving money from a well-off man felt degrading. So Guru Nanak brought food and cooked it, sitting on the floor with the religious folks and exchanging stories. This created the tradition of langar, where we all sit together on the floor to symbolise our equality in God’s eyes. 

So we sit on blue mats, our feet equally cold in the heatless room. My father spends more time in the langar hall than in the prayer room. This is where he chats with the men he met in small Onehunga flats when they were starving migrants. Everyone is welcome to langar; for this purpose, the langar hall and kitchen are always separate from the worship room. There is no need to thank a God you do not believe in to accept our kindness. 

T he most significant act of devotion as a Sikh is to take care of the world around us, because we believe we are simultaneously part of God as well as God’s creation. Through cooking meals, donating money, volunteering and teaching children or elderly people, Sikhs are worshipping God. This act is called seva. 

At age 12, I followed my nani’s loose pastel scarf into the gurdwara (place of worship) when I noticed a group of elderly women, heads covered in devotion with bright scarves, reciting the Punjabi alphabet. Their voices sounded tender yet powerful, an elder again becoming a child. Nani explained that she was the only educated girl out of her six sisters. Despite nani’s desire to attend university, she felt unsafe being the only woman to attend the local campus. 

At home, I would ask my father how my dadi ( paternal grandmother) would reply to his letters when it cost a dollar for every minute he called home. She would ask a village girl to read it out loud to her, sipping chai in her pale and sunny home, the words a blur of jumbled letters. How strange for my religion to create a new text for the benefit of lower-caste people and women, only to leave generations of women uneducated in the name of culture. I imagined my nani as a girl, curled up in her grandmother’s bed with a stomach full of fresh milk, hearing bedtime stories of Sikh liberation. A light switched off and a promise of a better world tomorrow.

Our current guru is Guru Granth Sahib, a book written in Gurmukhi. All these bright scarves, spent in devotion to guru, they could not see. I pray for them, as they are a part of me; their joy at reading is mine. 

Through people’s acts of seva, I learnt how to read Gurmukhi. We often discussed religious stories, and I became fascinated with the concept of gender in Sikhi. God does not have a gender, as they (God) existed before the manmade idea of gender. God is formless, transcendent. We dance with them, we are them, we are a part of their creation, and if we align ourselves right with the prayers and avoidance of maya (illusions of the world like drugs, beauty standards, wealth and competition with one another) we could join them in the centre of the universe. 

In Sikhi, the word for God is ਵਾਹਿਗੁਰੂ ( pronounced wa-he-gu-roo) , translating to “ teacher of the air”. As we speak, we transmit knowledge; within this knowledge, God is present, guiding our hands gently. What is more genderfluid than the air itself? 

O n the other hand, my Sikh identity is at odds with my queerness. Sometimes, at parties, my shoe kicking into the dirt of West Auckland backyards, I’d make comments about God, and they would be met with dismissive laughter. Religion is a bit of a joke in queer communities, and after centuries of being at odds with one another, who can blame them? Religion and queerness mimic the patterns of an overdomineering mother, wishing to craft her child out of the clay from the lakeside, and a child with fast feet. Neither realise that they cannot exist without each other; in their moulding and destruction of one another, they create one another. 

Over the coffee table covered with Punjabi newsletters and biscuits, my nani laughed about a story of two women marrying. I often think of being a child, listening to my nana’s (maternal grandfather in Punjabi) prayer as the sun dips away. The gentle pull of his hands as he moves over the prayer book. The birds easing to sleep; the sweet scent of mothballs from my grandmother’s shawl. Queerness is a religion: a devotion to discovering oneself. Maybe it’s selfish to want more than one religion, to want a God and a girl to understand it too.

Since I was a child, sprinting through the hallways wearing a bandana and jeans instead of a salwar kameez with a dupatta, I knew I was different. My bisexuality often manifests as isolation from the right way of performing femininity. Men and women occupy different spaces in the temple, sitting opposite one another for cultural rather than religious reasons. In protest, I often followed my nana  to the men’s section; a long-haired girl wearing a loosely wrapped scarf with her boyish jumpers. 

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When I am in front of the guru, I remind myself that he knows who I am, as he has created me as much as I have created him. Gurnanak ( another way of saying Guru Nanak Dev Ji) often becomes an imaginary friend whenever I hear homophobic remarks in the gurdwara. I imagine his disbelief that we are still thinking about gender as a set of rules to follow – doesn’t this count as an illusion of the world? 

I often think of the twelve-year-old version of Gurnanak who refused to wear a religious string that only upper-caste boys were permitted to wear, his steely calmness when he explained, as a child, that he is not brought closer to God by pretending he is better than God’s other creations. 

While the challenges of Punjabi homophobia and transphobia exist, I have to remember that Sikhi is a religion created out of a warzone. I am resilient, both as a queer individual and as a Sikh. We transform the world, carving spaces of equality. In my home, there is always food for all, and gender is just an illusion we mess around with.

• Kids Learning
• Class 2 Essay
• My Grandmother Essay In English For Class 2 Students

My Grandmother Essay in English for Class 2 Kids

Writing “My Grandmother Essay In English for Class 2” is a topic of interest for every child. Children enjoy conveying their emotions about their role model, who inspires and encourages them to achieve their goals. When given an opportunity to write “My Grandmother Essay”, they love to express their feelings in an artistic manner.

Grandmothers have a caring and loving nature and love their grandchildren very dearly. Kids love spending time with their grandmas and eagerly wait for them to cook delicious dishes of their choice. Grandmas shower loads of love and blessings and have a special corner in their hearts for their grandchildren.

Given below is a short my grandmother essay for Class 2 kids. We hope the “My Grandmother” essay given below will give a better idea to kids to compose a few lines on this interesting topic. You can download the “My Grandmother Essay In English” in colourful PDF format, from the link provided below.

Download “My Grandmother Essay In English” PDF for Free

My Grandmother Essay In English For Class 2 Kids

• My grandmother’s name is Mrs. Sharon Rodriguez.
• She is about seventy years old.
• She wears simple clothes.
• She is a very loving person.
• She cooks tasty food.
• I love the cookies she makes.
• She loves knitting.
• She knows a lot of songs and stories.
• She tells us stories at bedtime.
• I love my grandmother.

A Short Essay on My Grandmother for Class 2

My grandmother is a loving person. She cooks well and makes sure we all eat on time. She helps me finish my homework and tells me a lot of stories from her childhood. She is a good chess player and helps me understand the game. My grandmother also tells us stories. She motivates us to be kind and helpful. I love my grandmother, and we spend a lot of time together.

Did you like “My Grandmother Essay for Class 2” given above and want to explore more such essay topics for Class 2 kids? By referring to the above “My Grandmother” essay, kids can try drafting some lines on their respective grandmas. Get access to a huge variety of resources like NCERT Solutions, GK Questions, essays, poems, stories, easy trivia questions for kids in our Kids Learning section and explore more.

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Why Easter brings me back to church

Even though i don’t practice in earnest anymore, memories and community give me a reason to return every spring, by gabriella ferrigine.

“Please — come join us in the cafeteria after Mass has concluded!”

Father Ariel’s jaunty voice echoed from where he was standing at the slabbed marble pulpit, as he smiled out at the congregation. His family, who had arrived from the Philippines in droves to celebrate his 50th birthday, beamed from the first several rows of glossy, varnished pews. 

I’m not an atheist per se, but trying to find an equilibrium with faith has undoubtedly become a game of mental Tetris.

Mid-morning light filtered through stained glass depicting saints and the Stations of the Cross, casting soft pinks and blues and greens across the church: our local parish, St. James. Sun illuminated the top of Father Ariel’s head, and behind him, a domed mural of the stages of Jesus’ life — his birth in a manger, his crucifixion atop Calvary, and his resurrection after emerging from a stone sepulchre — seemed to swell higher with every slow, measured note of music from the raftered choir.

It was a Sunday morning in April, not exactly Easter but right around the time. The smell of incense — a combination of frankincense and myrrh — leached from every corner of the space, creating a somewhat soporific effect. I pictured my family, friends and neighbors gently falling asleep to its bitter, powdery aroma, like Dorothy  did in the poppy field. Everything felt buoyant and peaceful.

My family and many other parishioners — mainly gentle, geriatric hordes — joined Father Ariel with his multitude of relatives in my middle-school cafeteria for an authentic Filipino feast. Side dishes of pearly quail eggs, roasted fish and meats, bright salads and an array of desserts adorned every inch of table space, the very same where I ate many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in my youth. At the center of it all was a huge roast pig, or lechón, with delicate, crisped skin. I looked at the pig’s face, then at the people ambling around the dingy, linoleum floors, and immediately felt love. 

This was nearly 10 years ago, back during a time when I went to Church every Sunday and consistently prayed to God. I don’t consider myself a particularly religious person anymore. I’m not an atheist per se, but trying to find an equilibrium with faith has undoubtedly become a game of mental Tetris. Sure, Jesus seemed like a pretty cool guy — to me, his message has always unequivocally been "love,” in a broader sense. I’m on board with that. 

But I still remain immensely put off by how Catholicism’s sordid underbelly has blended into sociopolitical life, underpinning the dismantling of women’s reproductive rights and enabling sexual abusers. I find myself still clinging to it largely because it’s woven tightly into many people I love. It’s a perturbing relationship; I feel as though my continued shunning of organized religion has in a sense estranged me from the memory of some very important people. 

And yet, Easter and springtime always bring me back to church. I find myself craving, not exactly the scriptures and the teachings embedded in them, but how the space evokes the memories of people I love — chiefly my maternal grandmother and my mom — and an inclusive sense of community. 

A deeply spiritual person, my grandma — born in a small Bolivian jungle village called Riberalta — spent her teenage years living in a convent with a U.S.-based congregation of nuns performing foreign missionary work. She was readying to enter the sisterhood when she met my grandfather, a Sicilian and civil engineer volunteering with a Catholic mission group to help build new infrastructure in Riberalta. They returned to America together and settled in Bayonne, New Jersey, joined in a union forged out of a shared devotion to God and each other.

Though my mom didn’t pray a daily rosary or make pilgrimages to Lourdes like my grandma, she was deeply affected by her religious upbringing, a heritage she inculcated her five children with through weekly mass, and offering up nightly intentions along with prayers before dinner: family and friends who were sick or had died, poverty and homelessness, wartime conflict, our cat Sweet Pea’s hypothyroidism. 

In my grandmother’s house and my own, the iconography of Jesus and other religious figures was everywhere, peppering walls and mantelpieces alongside family photos and wedding albums. Each time one of my more than 25 cousins or I received a sacrament — Baptism, First Holy Eucharist, Confirmation — a sprawling, family-wide party followed, usually at an Italian restaurant with a generically benevolent, pot-bellied owner who would toddle around and ask, “How yous all likin’ the food?” And of course, there was always a large white sheet cake, piped in bubbled fonts: “God Bless ____!” 

Seeing as my mom’s eight siblings were spread out across central New Jersey, I essentially ran the gauntlet of various Catholic parishes in our area for different holidays and events. I had my favorite churches. St. James retained the top position. Then came St. Michael’s, a red-bricked church that was famous for its live-animal manger display during the Christmas season. Holy Cross — located in one of the more affluent towns in my county — had a stunning interior, but its reputation had always been somewhat sullied in my mind from a 2006 embezzlement incident . 

While I was able to evade formal liturgical participation, my three younger sisters were all urged to be altar servers, helping St. James’ priests — mostly middle-aged men from the Phillippines and India — prepare and proceed with weekly Sunday mass. One sister recalled a time when she and another altar server accidentally spilled open a bag of already-consecrated Eucharist wafers as they were preparing for mass in the wood-paneled sacristy. 

“Oh! Uh, don’t worry girls — I’ll consume these later,” the priest said when he walked in and saw them scooping the body of Christ off the floor and into Ziploc bags. 

Another time several years ago, my family was running late for Easter Sunday mass, half of us with our hair still wet. “Overflow,” an usher posted outside the church doors said as we approached, jerking his thumb toward the rear parking lot where the grammar school was located. Given that creasters (Catholics who only attend church on Christmas and Easter) come out of the woodwork every winter and spring, tardy worshippers are forced to attend the secondary service, held in the gymnasium or auditorium. 

From my seat in a metal folding chair, nostalgia washed over me as the priest carried a gold crucifix across the same floor where I’d once played dodgeball, toward the makeshift altar where I’d watched classmates act out a rendition of “The Little Mermaid.”

I feel as though my continued shunning of organized religion has in a sense estranged me from the memory of some very important people.

I spent last Easter in Newport, Rhode Island with my family for a short holiday vacation. The weekend was oceanic cliffs and Gilded Age mansions and a kaleidoscopic assortment of saltwater taffy. On Easter Sunday, we walked from our quaint bed and breakfast to St. Mary’s, Our Lady of the Isle, where JFK and Jackie O wed in September of 1953. We took turns waiting outside with our two Great Pyrenees, who had reaped the benefits of Newport’s reputation for being dog-friendly.

Ahead of the homily, the part of the service when the priest explains the Gospel reading in further detail, I elected to relieve my mom of dog duty, knowing she wouldn’t want to miss the crux of the mass. 

As I turned toward the door to trade off with her, the sharp New England morning air — and an emotional pang — made me bristle. I didn’t want to leave. Mashed tightly in hard-backed pews alongside other Catholics, loyalists and creasters alike, I felt a distinct sense of calm. The very same that came to me years ago as I gazed at a pig’s snout.

This Easter, we’ll be going back to St. James. Father Ariel is no longer at the parish — I don’t know many of the priests there anymore, my connection to the parish steadily eroded by distance, time and sheer obstinance on my part. It’s an elegiac relationship, compounded by the recent passing of my grandmother, who embodied holiness and unadulterated love in every sense. 

And while I may not take the time to philosophize about my salvation on Sunday, I’m certain I’ll think of her and what my being there would mean to her. For me, that’s enough to return every spring. 

about this topic

• Do Christians believe Jesus was resurrected from the dead? Well, it's complicated
• The history of the Easter butter lamb, an enduring Polish tradition in the states
• Best Easter pageant ever? Half a century of "Jesus Christ Superstar"

Gabriella Ferrigine is a staff writer at Salon. Originally from the Jersey Shore, she moved to New York City in 2016 to attend Columbia University, where she received her B.A. in English and M.A. in American Studies. Formerly a staff writer at NowThis News, she has an M.A. in Magazine Journalism from NYU and was previously a news fellow at Salon.

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A Gift from My Grandmother

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An Unconventional Spy Show

Culture and entertainment musts from Sarah Zhang

This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.

Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition, in which one Atlantic writer or editor reveals what’s keeping them entertained. Today’s special guest is Sarah Zhang, a staff writer who has covered the life-changing impact of a major cystic-fibrosis breakthrough , the true prevalence of incest , and why so many kids now need glasses .

Sarah is a converted fan of the new Mr. & Mrs. Smith remake, a show that toys with spy-movie tropes. She enjoys James Turrell’s art installations, which play with light and dark; was recently engrossed by the curse of goiter in Switzerland; and takes breaks by playing High Rise, which she considers the “platonic ideal of phone games.”

First, here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic :

• Baltimore lost more than a bridge.
• Too few Americans are eating a remarkable fruit.
• The war at Stanford

The Culture Survey: Sarah Zhang

The television show I’m most enjoying right now: My first reaction to Amazon Prime’s Mr. & Mrs. Smith remake was a smug eye roll about how nothing is new. But then I learned that the remake was co-created by Donald Glover, whose Atlanta is refreshingly weird. So is his new “spy” show. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are not particularly good at espionage or seduction or any of that spy-movie stuff, and the show sets up a fascinating game of subverted expectations. The cameos are so fun, as are the guest stars that make you go, Wait, is that supposed to be a cameo? The actor in the opening scene is a dead ringer for a young Angelina Jolie, and after what happens next—I won’t spoil—I knew the show was in deft hands. [ Related: How fake spies ruin real intelligence ]

The last entertainment thing that made me snort with laughter: The dog scene in the second episode of Mr. & Mrs. Smith .

The last museum or gallery show that I loved: In James Turrell’s Hind Sight , you sit for 15 minutes in a dark room looking at nothing. Or is it nothing? Afterward, all is revealed in a stunning moment that renewed my appreciation for the miracle of sight. My husband, who says he actually saw nothing, was enraged.

The installation is part of the Turrell exhibition at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, which also includes a Ganzfeld light room—the concept of which Drake borrowed for his “Hotline Bling” music video—and one of his famous Skyspaces . I hope one day to make it to the Roden Crater , the inactive volcano that Turrell bought almost 50 years ago to turn into his still-unfinished magnum opus.

Something I recently revisited: I recently started playing Balatro , a poker-like card-based video game. I was intrigued to learn, however, that its creator—a single anonymous dude in Canada—says he was inspired not by poker but by Big Two, a Chinese card game he played with his friends. I knew it! I too spent many childhood afternoons playing a variation of Big Two with my friends. And when we weren’t playing that, we were playing Spit, War, Gin Rummy, Egyptian Rat Screw, Zhao Pengyou , Hearts, or Spades, entertaining ourselves for hours with a pack of cards. Maybe I’m just nostalgic for a time when I had a lot of time, but I’m hoping to get a regular card game going in my life again. [ Related: The secret to gaming in adulthood ]

My favorite way of wasting time on my phone: High Rise is my platonic ideal of phone games: small, beautiful, and elegant, with few rules but infinite variations. You add buildings to a tiny city block. Small buildings merge into bigger buildings, but you will eventually run out of room—so to keep playing, you must destroy. (I hear Balatro is also coming to mobile soon …)

A piece of visual art that I cherish: Richard Serra, who died last week , made immense rust-colored sculptures that you can go inside and touch. I walked through one of his Torqued Ellipses for the first time a few years ago, and I walked through them again this past summer, after I’d just had a baby—meaning that my body had just grown and shrank and then sprouted a four-wheeled appendage, a.k.a. a stroller. The passages inside his Torqued Ellipses at the Dia Beacon museum are alternately wide and narrow; walking through them this most recent time, I felt overcome by how my relationship to time and space had so radically changed since I became a mother. The baby liked it too. Well, I think she liked being able to touch something in a museum.

A piece of journalism that recently changed my perspective on a topic: Jonah Goodman’s story in the London Review of Books about the curse of the goiter in Switzerland blew my mind. I can’t say I’d previously thought much about goiters, which are big lumps that appear in the neck, so I had never considered that the medical condition could be connected to the slow freezing and thawing of ice sheets in Europe 24,000 years ago. Goodman’s article traces how doctors uncovered the connection and their efforts to end the “national evil” in Switzerland, which they did so successfully a century ago that the curse of the goiter is now long forgotten.

The Week Ahead

• Ripley , a drama-thriller series based on the Talented Mr. Ripley novels, starring Andrew Scott as the titular grifter who is enmeshed in a web of deceit and murder (premieres Thursday on Netflix)
• Monkey Man , an action film starring Dev Patel as a man bent on revenge against an Indian city’s elites (in theaters Friday)
• Choice , a novel by Neel Mukherjee that follows the London-based publisher Ayush, who is driven by the question: “How ought one to live?” (out Tuesday)

Zyn Was 100 Years in the Making

By Jacob Stern

For something that isn’t candy, Zyn nicotine pouches sure look a lot like it. The packaging, a small metal can, looks more than a little like a tin of mints. The pouches come in a wide variety of flavors: citrus, cinnamon, “chill,” “smooth.” And they’re consumed orally, more like jawbreakers or Warheads than cigarettes. America has found itself in the beginnings of a Zyn panic.

Read the full article.

More in Culture

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• The real issue with Netflix’s 3 Body Problem
• Godzilla x Kong is one long tease.
• The everyday indignity of dining out
• A clear-eyed look at the early Obama years
• The Rick Rubin guide to creativity
• Photographing Black self-creation in the American South
• The impossible fight to live the life you want
• “Lunch at the Polo Club”
• The patron saint of political violence

Catch Up on The Atlantic

• Americans really don’t like Trump’s health-care plans.
• Sam Bankman-Fried’s dream came true.
• Phil Klay: “U.S. support for Israel’s war has become indefensible.”

Photo Album

Check out these images from The Notion of Family , a series by the photographer and visual artist LaToya Ruby Frazier.

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What Happened When This Italian Province Invested in Babies

The area around Bolzano has a thick network of family support provided by the government. That means a steady birthrate in a country facing a demographic plunge.

By Jason Horowitz and Gaia Pianigiani

Jason Horowitz reported from Bolzano, Italy, and Gaia Pianigiani from Siena.

In a municipal building in the heart of the alpine city of Bolzano, Stefano Baldo clocked out of work early for his breastfeeding break.

“It’s clear I don’t breastfeed,” Mr. Baldo, a 38-year-old transportation administrator, said in his office decorated with pictures of his wife and six children. But with his wife home with a newborn, one of the parents was entitled by law to take the time, and he needed to pick up the kids. “It’s very convenient.”

Full houses have increasingly become history in Italy, which has one of the lowest birthrates in Europe and where Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, as well as Pope Francis, have warned that Italians are in danger of disappearing. But the Alto Adige-South Tyrol area and its capital, Bolzano, more than any other part of the country, bucked the trend and emerged as a parallel procreation universe for Italy, with its birthrate holding steady over decades.

The reason, experts say, is that the provincial government has over time developed a thick network of family-friendly benefits, going far beyond the one-off bonuses for babies that the national government offers.

Parents enjoy discounted nursery schools, baby products, groceries, health care, energy bills, transportation, after-school activities and summer camps. The province supplements national allocations for children with hundreds of euros more per child and vaunts child-care programs, including one that certifies educators to turn their apartments into small nurseries.

All of that, experts say, helps free up women to work, which is vital for the economy. As in France and some Scandinavian countries, it also shows that a policy of offering affordable day-care services has the power to steer Italy from the impending demographic cliff as the birthrate falls.

“If we don’t invest money in families, there is no future for any of us,” said Waltraud Deeg, a former province council member and an architect of some of its family policies. “The family is a long-term project, so policies need to be long term, too.”

That approach not only distinguishes the area around Bolzano, it also stands out in Italy in other important ways that may make its example hard to replicate.

For a good chunk of its history, the Alto Adige area belonged to the assorted empires of Austria, which called it South Tyrol, until Italy annexed it in the early 1900s. It retains a measure of independence over its tax euros and financial decisions, and culturally, it can feel like another, more Austrian world than the rest of Italy. Most people still speak German and are more likely to tuck into bread dumplings than a bowl of pasta.

The area also has the highest income per resident in Italy, according to ISTAT, the country’s statistics agency.

Outside his office, Mr. Baldo walked past a blue wreath marking the arrival of a co-worker’s first grandchild and exited the building through a lobby filled with fliers advertising “Welcome Baby” backpacks loaded with tips for new parents and picture books.

He hopped on his scooter and arrived at the nursery school to pick up his 5- and 4-year-old sons. “Oh, you want both of them?” the preschool teacher joked. “But let me hide one under my apron.”

The boys strapped on their Bolzano-issued “Welcome Baby” backpacks and walked across the street with their father to pick up their little brother at another nursery for younger children. The four then crossed the street to their rent-stabilized apartment, where Mr. Baldo’s wife, Tiziana Balzamá, 39, greeted them with an infant in her arms.

Experts say the province’s sustained and reliable financial commitment to families matter more than the short-term baby bonuses that Italy’s unstable national governments have favored for decades.

“The difference is that it has a constant investment, over the years, unlike most national policies that are one-offs,” said Agnese Vitali, a demographer at the University of Trento. “Nobody plans to have children based on one-off policies.”

The Baldo family said provincial support meant everything to them. As a cake rose in the oven, Ruben, 2, played a children’s song, while his brothers Beniamino, 5, and Gioele, 4, showed off the plastic vegetables in their play kitchen. Their parents sat next to a toy cash register and explained that, like every parent in the province, they received 200 euros a month for each of their six children until they turned 3.

That was on top of the monthly check for 1,900 euros, or about $2,000, they received from the national government for their children.

Their Family + card, available to all families with three or more children, entitled them to 20 percent off many supplies around the city and was linked to the local Despar supermarket for additional discounts. Ms. Balzamá said she also made use of savings on public transportation.

When the family-friendly subsidies started in the 1980s, the province also imported the idea of the Tagesmutter, or childminder, day-care system from East Germany. Italians call it Casa Bimbo. Under the system, the province certifies, registers and supports local teachers who turn their homes into nurseries. It is especially popular in rural areas.

“They bet on a network of widespread micronurseries,” said Mariangela Franch, an economics professor at the University of Trento.

Ms. Balzamá, who worked in classrooms around the province before her first son was born, said she had looked into a yearlong course to become a Tagesmutter but concluded that for now it made more financial sense to stay home.

“It was my choice to say that I will wait to go back to work,” she said.

For mothers who do wish to return to work — like her sister, a nurse, with four children of her own — Ms. Balzamá said the province also offered inexpensive public nursery schools.

Some experts say the province’s attitude toward family benefits is rooted in the desire of a minority culture in a historically disputed area to keep alive a strong identity by encouraging people to have more children. That cultural factor becomes clearer when looking across the border to Trentino, the other — and more culturally Italian — part of the larger region.

Trentino has also invested heavily in child care — a strategy that predates and in some cases outstrips its neighbor. Its birthrate has nevertheless plunged to 1.36 children per woman, much lower than Alto Adige-South Tyrol’s and much closer to the dismal national average.

“The local culture also plays an important role,” said Alessandro Rosina, a prominent Italian demographer. “And that is hard to export.”

Mr. Baldo, who does not speak German, says he is as Italian as anyone. He said his Catholic faith and affection for the chaos of big families — his wife is one of eight children — motivated the couple to have children, a decision enabled by provincial policies.

At 4 p.m., he rushed out to pick up his other two sons from school in his white van. He said he had ordered a new one, with nine seats, and that anything bigger would require a special license.

He waved to the volunteer retirees in fluorescent green vests who made up what the province called “grandparent traffic cops.” In addition to acting as crossing guards, he explained, they also marched children to school in the morning in a program called “the walking bus.”

Mr. Baldo’s older boys — Raffaele, 10, and Elia, 8 — piled into the van, and they all rode home. Their grandmother Renata Canali, 71, had stopped by and demanded that her daughter-in-law “give me my grandson.”

“Ciao, ciao, ciao,” she said to the infant, Giona, 6 months old. “He’s as beautiful as the sun.” Some of the boys drew or danced, while the others got ready for dinner, showers or soccer practice.

“Many of our friends have one or two children because they want to live their lives. But here if they wanted, they have help,” Ms. Balzamà said. “We have a friend in Rome who has four kids. They pay a ton for help.”

Jason Horowitz is the Rome bureau chief for The Times, covering Italy, the Vatican, Greece and other parts of Southern Europe. More about Jason Horowitz

Gaia Pianigiani is a reporter based in Italy, covering breaking news across Italy and Europe. More about Gaia Pianigiani