A section from Georges Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl

I'm going shopping in the village. Be a good boy. Don't get up to mischief.
This was a silly thing to say to a small boy. It made him wonder. What sort of mischief could he get up to.

Dont forget to give Grandma her medicine, the mother said. Then she left.

Grandma was dozing in her chair by the window when she opened one wicked little eye and said, now you heard what your mother said. Don't forget my medicine.
Okay.
And try to behave yourself.
Yes.

George was bored to tears. He didn't have a brother or a sister and his father was a farmer and the farm they lived on was miles away from anywhere and there was never any children to play with. He was tired of staring. He was especially tired of living with Grandma. Looking after her all by himself on a Saturday morning. Hardly exciting.

You can make me a nice cup of tea, she said.
Yes.
The boy couldn't help disliking her. She was selfish, grumpy, old. Pale brown teeth. Puckered up mouth.

How much sugar in your tea, said the boy.
One. No milk.
Most Grandmas are lovely and kind and helpful. But not her. She spent all day complaining, grousing, grouching, grumbling, griping. Never once has she smiled. She didn't seem to care about others. Only herself. Miserable. George went into the kitchen and made Grandma a cup of tea with a teabag and he put one spoon of sugar in it and no milk and he stirred the sugar well and carried the cup into the living room and Grandma took a sip.
Not sweet enough, she said.