T-R-U-S-T-M-E

Mom and I sat down in the kitchen last night to play a game of Skip-Bo with my grandpa. First, let me just say that Grandpa is one you have to watch like a hawk as he will pick up more cards than he needs, forget to discard, or try and pull a fast one on occasion. So there we were enjoying our game, with me dishing out a bowl of orneriness to my grandpa and mom laughing at my antics. (It's good for his spirit, wink-wink.)

Throughout the entire game I'd casually been keeping tabs on his cards, making sure he had the right amount in his hands at all times and so on. In my defense, I'd just like to say that you couldn't help but take notice of the cards in his hand with the way he held them way out there. At one point in the game we came to a standstill as we were in desperate need of a particular number. As it was Grandpa's turn to play, he immediately went to discard after picking up his needed cards, much to my mom's astonishment. Mom seemed to be in disbelief that he didn't have anything to play, even AFTER she questioned him twice. By then I felt it was time to step in. I looked at her across the table and spelled out T-R-U-S-T-M-E. (Like I said, you couldn't help but see the ol' guys cards.) Mom caught on real fast with a quick smile and after a few seconds went by, Grandpa slowly turned his head towards me and couldn't hide his smile while he nonchalantly drew his cards closer to his chest. Oh---I couldn't help but laugh at that!

Despite the fact that his memory ain't quite what it used to be, his strength is waning, and his hearing is going---the ol' guy can still SPELL! Pahhhh!