I’d put Grandma wisdom on a fake recipe card, covered in coffee stains and sarcastic notes, like “add garlic, mind your business, and don’t overthink it,” so it feels like something stolen from her kitchen drawer.

I’d turn Grandma wisdom into a mock report card for my life, with subjects like “Laundry,” “Dating Choices,” and “Common Sense,” graded in red pen with comments like “knows better, still acts dumb,” just like she’d actually say.

I’d design a Grandma wisdom hotline poster, like an old repair ad, with tear-off tabs labeled “breakups,” “burnt rice,” and “family drama,” because she’s the only customer service that actually works.

I’d make a Grandma wisdom “warning label” graphic, like on a product, that reads “Caution: may tell you the truth you didn’t ask for,” wrapped around a cute but slightly terrifying grandma silhouette.