My granddaughter informed me that her favorite song was Forget You, then sang a few bars of it for me. I guess she forgot that I used to sing Scarlett Ribbons to her when I cradled her in my arms.
The other night I dropped by my daughter’s house. They had just returned from their extended stay vacation in Northern California. “Wanna play some soccer?” asked the Bug, my eight-year-old grandson.
“Sure,” I said. I guess he forgot he really didn’t like soccer that much. Grandmas are always big on buiding self esteem, so I let him slip the ball by me. “That was really good,” I praised.
“That’s why I was one of the best players on the team,” he boasted. That wasn’t exactly how I remembered his plays. I guess he forgot that too.
The Worm was drawing a yellow kitty masterpiece on the sidewalk (“with cute little ‘uh ‘uh”). She never could identify what those blue looking booties were on the kitty’s ears. The quiet little Mouse seated himself beside her. I called out his name. He gazed at the giant chalk piece in his hand, then up at me. He opted to return to sketching on the sidewalk.
I’ve come in second, third, and even last many times, but I’ve never come in second to a piece of chalk. 
Forget you!
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Oh chalk is hugely more important than us mere Grandmas! Don’t you just love looking at the artwork for days afterwards?
My grandkids weren’t great soccer players, either. They tended to walk right off the field if they got bored, which they did often.
On the very first play of the season, my grandson got ran after a ball near the goalie, got his foot caught in the net, and toppled the whole goal over on top of him. And it only got worse after that…
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