Morning Thanks--Sheer Genius*

His grandma says he came downstairs with her last Friday because she was cleaning up down here, doing some dusting, getting ready to show the house.  She says he went for the Aeron chair right away, climbed up and in after announcing to her that it was, of course, "papa's chair."  Then he pulled that chair up to the desk and grabbed my reading glasses, far too big for him, of course, and attempted to slip them on his face. She had to help, she said.

He's two-and-a-half, a babbler, talks a mile-a-minute, but says things only his mother can hope to translate.  So all the while he's pulling this acting job off down here in the basement, he's talking, saying important things, I'm sure, jabbering away.

There's a scratch pad on the desk, and at least a dozen pens, so he grabs one of those pens and starts writing.  There he is, my wife says, in papa's chair, with papa's reading glasses perched on his cute little button nose, one of papa's big pens in his hand, writing something or other on papa's paper. 

I'm not sure what king of blog post he was composing just then, but I have the manuscript right here. This is it, in fact. Have a look. I'm quite sure it's profound, as fine a piece of work that's come out of the basement for quite a while.

Isn't it great?  Quite frankly, I think his writing is beyond words. This morning's thanks is for the sheer genius he left behind down here on that yellow pad.   

Trust me on that--I taught writing for 40 years.  Besides, I'm his grandpa.
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Posted 2/27/2102