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.