Rich As a King

Christmas comes early, the day has arrived. I don’t need more presents; already have five. We’re going to the grands for waffles and fruit, spend time in their presence, so precious and cute. The eldest, a bright one - that much is quite clear; he loves to build things like a good engineer. The next is a reader, devouring her books, turning her pages in some quiet nook. The middle one’s sweet and rough as they come; she’ll give you a hug, poke your eye with her thumb. The fourth is precocious, an inquisitive mind; her world is an oyster with pearls there to find. The last is the baby, but this kid is huge; been walking for months, his words a deluge. If asked, I respond that I don’t need a thing; when you’re a grandparent, you’re rich as a king.