Today, my grandson Brady, is coming over and we are going to plant potatoes.  It will be the first thing I put in the ground this year.  I have twenty-six other things that need to be transplanted, and if we get all of that done, I will go over to my old house across the street and dig up the asparagus I planted three years ago.

Asparagus takes three years to grow before you can pick it.  The roots need to strengthen.  Jennifer and David don't care if I go get it.  I checked!  I bought them another dozen asparagus plants they can stick in the ground.  I don't think I can wait another three years for the new bunch to be ready.  They can.

It is a moot point, because I don't eat asparagus very often anyway.  I'll pick it when it comes up in my garden, and give it back to them.

I love to find things that I can do with Brady.  And he likes to do stuff with me.  When the potatoes are ready to harvest, I'll call Jonathan to bring him back over to help me dig them up.  Brady will love that.  His brother Tate, two years younger, is interested in one thing.  Cars.  I will have to figure out something I can do with him when he is a little bit older.  Tate is a carbon copy of Ken, so I understand his personality perfectly.  Single minded.  Focused.

Brady, on the other hand has a personality like his grandmother--me.  Jumping from one thing to the other, running in circles, bored easily, but ready to do something fun with someone else.  Tate entertains himself.  A loner.  

They are my two youngest grandchildren.  Jon started late, married late, had children late.  But then he is nine years younger than my other three.  My first grandchild is thirty-seven, my youngest is four.  Quite a span.