My name is Amos.

This is my grandmother.

Her name is Mamie.

I can almost say it.

She thinks I can.

She loves me and worries about me as much as my mom.

I was crying in the kitchen and she kept saying, “What happened?”, over and over and over.

I couldn’t tell her.

That’s the hardest part, my mom said as she picked me up and kissed me over and over.

I felt better when we cooked eggs.

I said, “hot, hot, hot” and said, “nana,” so she helped me peel it.

She’s awfully nice to me.

Good thing I’m cute.

Love, Amos