My wife, daughters and mother-in-law all went to a conference tonight, across town, so I got a night at home with my nearly three-year-old grandson. We played in the yard; he came in and played in the bathtub; he had something to eat; we played with his animal toys; and, finally, he wanted to watch “The Wizard of Oz”. My twenty-one-year-old son joined us for the second half or so of the movie.
The enchanted poppies in that movie worked not only on The Cowardly Lion, and Dorothy, but, apparently my grandson. He fell asleep on my chest, and I moved him into under a blanket a few minutes later.
There’s nothing like a good story at bedtime, I guess.