Maxisms

We have a new therapist this year. He looks like an athlete and Max loves him. He is like his own personal trainer. When he’s working with Max, I hear him cheering him on as they toss the football and climb the stairs and it is really pretty awesome.

The only hard part for Max is his name, Andy.

"Max," I asked him this morning to gear him up for the workout ahead, "do you know who's coming to play with you today?"

"Mr. Handy?" "Mr. Mandy?" "Mr. Dandy?" He asked each time as I answered no.

After a little coaching, he finally got it as the doorbell rang. He ran to the door and opened it. "Hi Mr. Candy!" he shouted gleefully.

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My mom, in the tradition of grandmothers everywhere, likes to keep a bowl of candy on hand for when the kids visit. Lately it has been filled with taffy. It's been a huge hit.

Max, lover of all things sweet, makes his way into mom's kitchen, and then says, "Hello Bama! Can I have a piece of happy?"