The Poet

He's the one Pop-Pop calls The Professor. He's the one I call my "Diggy Boy" because I completely dig him just so much. And here's a little bitta how come.... Growing somewhat house-bored yesterday, Grayson laid himself on his back right next to me while I nursed Abby for the millionth time. Here he discovered running in the air. After a few minutes of this he says, "Look Mommy! My kick are feeting!" and they were. His little kicks were feeting a mile a minute and we both sat in awe to watch such a happy dance.

And then during lunch Sadie had a stare down with Grayson over a dinosaur shaped chicken nugget. Her chops were salivacious and even her nose was running. Grayson looks at her with empathy and says, "Mommy, Sadie needs a tissue. Her nose is crying."

And the best one of all came when he was sleep talking. After our usual rocking and singfest I put him down for bed and he says to me (before I utter a word) "I love you too, Mommy. I love you so much. Do you know where my red hammer go?" Sweet as Shakespeare, dark as Poe. That's my Diggy Boy.