My ten-year-old grandson is off school for Thanksgiving, so
he hung around with me today. I went out
into the country to help a friend with some trim in his house and Bennett had
fun outdoors. He found a creek at the
bottom of the hill, which was great fun.
If it weren’t for that little minnow enticing him, everything would have
been all right. As it was, Bennett
slipped into the cold water and came back up the hill freezing. It was after 1 PM and we were hungry, and
Bennett was cold and wet. On the way to
Chick fil-A, I stopped by thrift store to get him some dry clothes. I found some Crocks, but no socks. I grabbed a pair of jeans that looked about
his size and checked out. Bennett
hunkered down in the truck jump seat and changed his pants. But the jeans were too tight. By then I was “hangry”. I said, “Bennett, just zip them up, don’t
button them, and pull your sweatshirt sown over the waist. I got out of the truck in the parking lot and
walked toward CfA. Bennett’s pants were
so tight that he couldn’t bend his knees.
So he rolled like a log over the back of the seat into the front seat
and stiff-legged it behind me. He sat
down as best he could not even walking to the counter. Bennett was so embarrassed that he had me to
get the ketchup for him. He said, “These
jeans are so tight, I look like a girl!”
When we finished, he looked right and left, and when the coast was
clear, Bennett shuffled straight-legged back to the truck. I had to pick him up and put him into the truck. Sounds like a good with Granddaddy. Well, almost.
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