From the Omaha Daily Bee, November 5, 1912. My grandpa says that he was once A little boy like me. I s’pose he was, and yet it does Seem queer to think that he Could ever get my jacket on Or shoes, or like to play With games, and toys, and race with Duke, As I do every day. He’s come to visit us, you see, Nurse says I must be good And mind my manners, as a child With such a grandpa should. For grandpa’s very straight and tall, And very dignified. He knows most all there is to know, And other things beside. So, though my grandpa knows so much I thought that maybe boys Were things he hadn’t studied They make such an awful noise. But when at dinner I asked for Another piece of pie, I thought I saw a twinkle In the corner of his eye. So yesterday, when they went out, And left us two alone I was not quite so much surprised To find how nice he’d grown. You should have seen us romp and run; My, now I almost see That perhaps he was long, long ago A little boy like me.