Saturday, March 03, 2012
Early last year, when my grandson was still a gleam in his father's eye, I had a dream. In it, I walked through the woods just outside the front door of my home, carrying my grandson and telling him some tall tale about the dinosaurs who roamed the place millions of years ago. He interrupted and said, "Grandma, I don't like dinosaurs." Flash forward to yesterday evening, when I was holding my two-week-old grandson on my lap and watching him sleep. (Actually, I was trying to wake him up.) And his grandpa was trying, too, by tickling his belly. Easton made a frown and I said, "Stop that. Easton doesn't like tickles. And he doesn't like dinosaurs." Everyone laughed and someone asked, "How do you know he doesn't like dinosaurs?" I said, "Because he told me in a dream." And I looked back down at Easton and a smile lit up his face and he chuckled in his sleep, as if we had just shared the biggest private joke in the Universe.