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I'd really like for them to know about hand-me-down clothes and home-made ice cream and leftover meatloaf. I really would. My cherished grandson, I hope you learn humility by surviving failure and that you learn to be honest even when no one is looking. I hope you learn to make your bed and mow the lawn and wash the car-and I hope nobody gives you a brand-new car when you are sixteen. It will be good if at least one time you can see a baby calf born, and you have a good friend to be with you if you ever have to put your old dog to sleep. I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in. I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it is all right to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I hope you'll let him. And when you want to see a Disney movie and your kid brother wants to tag along, I hope you take him. I hope you have to walk uphill with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely. If you want a slingshot, I hope your father teaches you how to make one instead of buying one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books, and when you learn to use computers, you also learn how to add and subtract in your head. I hope you get razzed by friends when you have your first crush on a girl, and that when you talk back to your mother you learn what Ivory soap tastes like. | 
