Grant! My saucy singleton. “Easy as a housecat after twins” truly only applies to the infant stage. Since then, he’s been busy, busy, busy. Certainly the busiest potato that ever tatered.

Two years ago, Grant was a hope. We hadn’t met him yet, but he was still part of me. He was an idea. He was due this very day – and made it right on time, but not for another 18 hours or so. He took my very heart out, wrapped in his caul.

When Grant was still in utero, he kicked constantly. We said “he’s a runner” – a runner like his dad and grandad. It was offhand, something you mean, but don’t think about.

Well, holy shit, the boy is actually a runner. He loves sport of all kinds. Run around the kitchen island? Yes please. Throw balls? Absolutely. Dunk? He’s your potato.

He’s the friendliest, jolliest, pushiest little boy, and his big brother and sister just adore him. Well, Eleanor can sometimes get a little tired of him, but Henry will play, and play, and play with him.

I don’t know how, but we sure lucked out.