He’s funny. He’s fun. He’s sweet. He’s silly.
He will readily admit to these things. He’ll even list them for you when prompted, before launching into his ABCs.
I love when he sings his ABCs and gets to the end and calls them “my ABCs” like he made them up. Like they were spun from his little imagination.
When he wakes in the morning, his Mom asks what he dreamed about and he says, “airplanes and helicopters.” He loves diggers and trucks. He’ll tell you that his Poppi went to Tennessee to buy a yellow boat.
Our grandson has spun himself into the center of our universe. Everything revolves around this boy.
His Poppi won’t let me (his Grammy) clean his handprints from our fireplace.
Yes. He’s that special.