When I was younger I spent a few years before formal school and then summers after that with my grandma. She would watch me during the day while my parents were at work. Monday-Friday she was generally all business but on Saturdays when Mom and I would be over there she would baby me to a ridiculous extent. During the work week we still found time to play. She taught me how to play dominoes (a practical mathematical exercise), how to play cards (geometry and identifying shapes), and how to use currency (by buying ice cream whenever the ice cream truck came around).
Most of all she passed along her love of cooking. Cooking in my grandma's world was her language of love. I spent many a day licking bowls clean or sampling her delicious meals. To this day I really can't get a handle on a darn thing that she made with me, but I love to cook nonetheless. It's my therapy and it always reminds me of my time with her - when it was just her and I roasting in her too small kitchen. Even though I was number thirteen out of fifteen grandchildren in those moments, I was her favorite! :)