Gram and Papa Clyde took all of us to IHOP this morning before they headed back to Memphis. We dined sumptuously on pancakes, french toast, bacon, eggs, hash browns, biscuits and gravy, and the Maker and the Ice competed to see who could drink more of the little creamers in the baskets on our three pushed-together tables. (Thankfully they left the little jellies alone this time: you think they’re maturing?)
Toward the end of breakfast, I saw Gram whisper quietly to the Ice “Do you have a pocket for this?” as she surreptitiously passed him a crisp five dollar bill under the table.
“Thank you, thank you!” he whispered excitedly, bouncing up and down in his seat.
She grinned and turned to the First, sitting on her other side. “Do you have a pocket for this?” she asked slyly, slipping him a fresh five.
“I love you, Gram, thank you,” the First whispered back to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
By now the Maker had taken notice, despite the adult conversation swirling around him. Before Gram had a chance to ask him her question he leaned forward in his seat and whispered across the table: “I have two pockets.”
That’s my boy.
Photo by sea-turtle
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That is the greatest. You must be so proud
Except that the tactic didn’t actually work. So you know, maybe I’m a failure as a parent? heehee.
My clever grandsons!!! Probably the only reason that it didn’t work is because Gram’s pockets were empty! What fun!
I love this boy.
All third children are wily and creative, I believe.
I think you’re right! (snicker snicker) And dear. So very dear.
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