The first words I heard this morning were, "Good Morning Gingie." That's what my six-year-old grandson calls me. Back when he was a babbling baby, he looked at me and cooed, "Gingie." I called everyone to come, "Owen said his first word! He called me Gingie." And that's been my name ever since.
He stays with us most weekends. I love beginning the day with him. "Good morning Owen. Did you have any good dreams last night?"
This is what he told me:
The only dream I can remember is the crazy dream about colors.
You get to Magic Color Land by going through the magic door. There are tiny tiny tiny words above the door. You can hardly see them. They say, "Door to Magic Color Land."
All the colors were there. They were saying hello to each other."Hello Blue.""Hello Green."
Green was the littlest one there, like a baby. I wanted to squeeze him, but not hard. He was so adorable. Blue and yellow are his mom and dad. Blue was the biggest one and I thought yellow was Mom dressed up in yellow. But it wasn't.
The colors look like crayons with arms and legs. If they want to, they can tip over and color a picture, but their tip never goes away.
And then the evil pencil monster showed up and I transformed into Bumblebee and my dinosaur transformed into Optimus Prime. I fought the pencil and threw him to Optimus who transformed back to a dinosaur and chewed the pencil up.
Can we watch PBS Kids now?
I turned on the TV. Thomas and Friends was just starting. What a wonderful way to start the day.