We went out to eat tonight.  We went to a place called Olive Garden.  I don't know why they call it that, there weren't any olives and there sure wasn't a rose garden anywhere.  But, boy was the food good.  I had macaroni and cheese and I ate a lot. 

Mom and Dad are shopping and I am here with Grandma and Grandpa.  I have my own desk at their house.  It also turn into a rocking horse and a high chair.  They are magic.  When I sit in the desk, I am an artist.  I can draw my hand and I color the prettiest straight lines you have ever seen.  And the color is great.  It's what ever color crayon I have at the time.  Sometimes when I sit at the desk I am a poet or an author the trouble is I write so good and so sophisticated that no one can read it yet.  Oh well, someday they will know.

When I sit in the high chair I can sit at the counter to eat my food.  Don't tell mom and dad, but I sometimes get an ice cream sandwich when I'm down here.  (yes, I have my enzymes first)

It's suppose to be a secret, Grandpa is having a birthday tomorrow.  I feel sorry for him, he doesn't get any presents.  I remember my birthday, I got lots and lots and lots of presents.  I asked him how old is going to be and Dad said,  "He's older than dirt."  How old is dirt?  Grandma says, "he's over the hill, to old to count."  I just thought about that, I still don't know how old dirt is what is over the hill and will I like it when I get there?

Oh well, see you later, bye for now.

Let's stry for a discussion tonight.  How old is dirt, and what's over the hill?