Chasing Red Birds

I know everyone’s grandchildren are geniuses, smart as a whip—how did this ever get to be a saying?—but my grandson, in particular, is amazing.

Sometimes he bursts out the door like a cat on a mission, reacting to movement out in the yard, shouting squirrels! Frantic to catch some wild thing. I worry he’ll fall, miss a step on the cascade of back decks in his hurry to run down a rabbit. I see you!

Tonight, released from his bath and newly clean, (I wasn’t supposed to let him get dirty) he suddenly took off like a banshee. Red bird, red bird! He zigzagged from fence post to tree boughs in pursuit of a cardinal. He returned to my arms disappointed. Almost, I soothed him. You were so close.