"This little pig went to market," The grandmother held her grandson on her lap and wiggled his big left toe. Jason was fresh out of his bath and wrapped in a towel. They were sitting on his bed which was in the form of a racing car.
"That's not a pig, that's a toe." Jason's blue eyes stared into his grandmother's as if to say she wasn't too bright.
Her English teacher background came through and for a second she forgot that Jason was just three. "It's a symbol."
"What's a symbol?"
"It's when one thing stands for another. In words." She grabbed his next toe. "And this little pig stayed home."
"Of course it stayed home, it's on my foot."
Although she loved her grandson, she wondered about him. "And this little pig had roast beef. I don't like roast beef, but I like hamburgers and hot dogs."
"Toes don't eat roast beef. I don't know what real pigs eat," Jason said.
She was determined to bring a little lightness into this little boy's life. "And this little pig had none."
"I heard on television that people are starving all over the world," Jason said. "That makes me sad." He leaned his head against her chest. His hair was still wet and she felt the dampness through her blouse.
"And this little pig cried wee, wee, all the way home."
"My toe is already home. This is my bedroom. You're so silly, Grammy."
The grandmother finished drying Jason and held out his Batman pajamas. Maybe, just maybe he might still have some sense of make believe.
"Batman isn't real. Too bad. He could catch robbers."
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