Jon, my youngest, brought his two boys over this afternoon. Brady will be eight next week, and Tate is four and a half.  They are like wound up energy machines.  I can't imagine how I raised four kids.  I must be super-human.

I have a big basket full of cars that Tate runs and finds the minute he comes in the door.  He knows where it is and knows it is his basket.  He has never been interested in any other toys except the ones that have four wheels.  I buy cars and trucks at garage sales every time I find new ones that some child never used. I've been amazed at how many brand new toys end up in a garage sale.

I asked Jon how long he thought this "car stage" would last, and Jon said, "Well it's lasted four and a half years so far."  In other words, since Tate was born.
Brady goes to Bible School every year with me.  He likes puzzles and games.

I sent the two of them out to water my flowers and of course they came in soaking wet.

By the time they left to go home, I was exhausted.  That's the reason that God gave children to young adults.

But I love having them here.  They are the last of my grandchildren.  Jon and Jennifer aren't having any more, and all my others are in their late twenties and thirties.  Jon started late.  He was born late--ten years after my others kids.

And then he did four years in the Navy, (which Ken and Scott wouldn't let him live down) and was much older when he married.  And then, they waited a long time to have children.

I hope I'm up to it when it's time for Tate to go to Bible School.