“The Little Boy and the Old Man”
Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.
― Shel Silverstein
It has happened, on ocassion, when my one son and his wife, and my wife, are sitting around the living room in lively conversation amongst themselves that:
My attempts to join in, and my youngest grandson’s attempts to be noticed, are ignored.
And he will look over to me, and I to him.
And he’ll come over to where I’m sitting, crawl up and sit in my lap.
And I will hug him tight to me, and we’ll both feel wanted.