Six Decades Later

The first time he started out on his "motorcycle" today, my two-year-old grandson crashed into a nearby plant, albeit a big one, and dissolved into tears. He wasn't hurt, but I'm sure when I was his age I would have done the same thing. After all, it's humiliating, being felled by a plant.

After his tears dried, I suggested we get a helmet, and he agreed.

Back on his game, his Mom's bicycle helmet on his head, we went out once again to explore the world near his house.

As he raced along the streets, his only stops were when beautiful flowers caught his attention. Every time that happened, he parked his motorcycle, went over and bent down to smell the flowers. Every time he did that, he told me they smelled "(d)ood, very (d)ood."

Back home, he encountered a sweet cat in his yard and couldn't help but softly pet it. The cat was willing to be petted, even by a baby.

=30-