"Sure." I pointed to the end of the first grade show and tell line.
"I've got something to tell." I could tell she was going to be a good public speaker some day, because she leaned into the crowd and made some good eye contact, making them all stop chewing their fruit snacks and fish crackers before she went on.
"I'm going to my grandma's house and I'm going to play cards."
She paused again for effect.
"And I think I'm going to win, because every time I play cards with my grandma, I win."
I wanted to ask her what kind of cards they were playing, but that was just opening up something I probably didn't want to have any part of.
"I'll take three questions," she said, scanning the audience.
They're now supposed to come up with real questions, not "telling" statements about themselves, but six-year-olds have their own set of rules.
She pointed at a boy who had his hand waving so hard, it had lifted him off his seat like a helicopter propeller.
"My grandpa was a marine," he said. He did a quick scan of the crowd to see if he needed to crank things up a notch. "They had a war and they didn't pick him. So now he's a hardware guy."
Grandparents are the best. They are the true American heroes. And you don't even have to be six to think so.