Cookies with a grandson

One of our grandsons lives with us right now (along with his parents!). He's two. He understands that I go to work, and most days I leave before he's up, so it's not a big deal. But on Saturday when I needed to come in to work, he was up and not happy about it. He grabbed his shoes, ran to the door, and said, "I ready to go to work" over and over. So I asked his mom if we could go for a treat. We got in the car (he's still in his pj's) and drove down to Kneaders. When I said that's where we were going, he asked "French toast?" I laughed. They do make the best French toast in the world--and I wondered how he knew already. But we'd had breakfast (he ate his own and half of my bowl of Wheaties), so I said, "No, a cookie." We went in, got him a shamrock cookie and sat at a table while he ate it, one small bite at a time, studying all the people in between bites. It was such a fun way to spend a half hour, and the joy stayed with me all the time I was at work. Then on Sunday, when I was getting ready to go to a morning church meeting, he grabbed his shoes and said, "Go to Kneaders? Get a cookie?" I guess I started something. And I wish I could do it every day.