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!
