I’m home alone with Grandpa and it’s time to put him to bed.

“Are you all alone?” he calls from his room.

I’ll be there in a minute,” I yell over my shoulder.

“What?” he says, trying to decipher what I said when this song comes to mind:

Home, home on the range,
where Jill and Grandpa play.
Where seldom is heard a complete sentence or word,
and the old folks can’t hear what you say.

I love, Grandpa!