Grandboy (quietly giggling and whispering is his raspy voice): hey gwumpa you can’t find me

gwumpa over here can’t find me (giggle)

hey look for me

Me: I can’t find you ‘cuz I ain’t lookin’ for ya.

Grandboy (stands up): GWUMPA

Hehe gotta know how to flush them out of the bushes

Told the grandboy that if he didn’t behave well on our outing, we’d go eat at Cow-fil-a.

That’s where cows poke little boys with sticks and eat THEM, instead of the other way round. Seems to be working.

Sometimes medieval approaches work moderately well…