For a guy who doesn't talk much unless he knows you, Grant's mouth does not stop when he's at home.
No matter what I am doing, I can always hear him in the background. Usually, he is narrating his NASCAR, monster truck races, or whatever else he can make race. And it's not enough that I can hear him, but he has to come and tell me who won his race... and who got second and third and fourth.... and who crashed. AND, as if that's not enough, he has to show me the replay of who won his race... and who got second and third and fourth... and who crashed and how they crashed, etc. etc. etc.
It's funny. He knows all of his NASCAR driver's name and can recognize their numbers. But he doesn't quite know that 24 is twenty-four or that 48 is forty-eight. He's almost got it figured out, but not quite yet.
The other day I was busy in the kitchen listening to Grant in the background when all of the sudden, there was silence. I stopped, knowing that something was different, but I didn't know what yet. I realized Grant was quiet, and nowhere to be seen.
I called out his name. After getting no response, I went looking for him. Bathroom? No. Bedroom? No. Upstairs? No. Our closet with the door closed? Yes.
I noticed he was chewing on something. I asked what he was eating. As he was chomping, his response was "nuttin." I asked again. "What are you eating?" He admitted he had found a tootsie roll in his backpack.
And just like that Grant had told his first white lie.