It was the last night he would be one, this grandson of mine, so I cradled him extra close as I rocked and whispered, “Whose birthday is it tomorrow?”
He popped the ba out of his mouth and smiled, “Mimi’s.” Then he flashed me one of his toothy grins. Sawyer Bean is a tease.
“Noooo,” I said, shaking my head. “Not Mimi’s. Whose?”
“Sawyours” he said, popping the ba back in.
We read a book, an old familiar one. One that I read to my own children, many moons ago, back when Carter was president, while pushing back and forth in that very same rocker. You know the book, too, I’m sure: “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can … I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could.”