No title will do this justice...

This may not mean anything to most of you, but it certainly means a lot to me.  For a little background, I began writing little stories from the moment I could print.  I even have a story somewhere that looks like Egyptian hieroglyphs because the print is so poor.  It's about a farmer who can't find the pig to make his bacon for breakfast, and after a frantic hunt around the farm, decides he'll just have pancakes instead.  (Apparently I wanted to be a part of PETA when I grew up.)  My grandmother in particular was very supportive of my desire to write, buying me scrapbooks in which to keep my stories.  One of my big regrets is that thus far in my life, I haven't fulfilled her dream for me, and my dream for myself.  I am still in the midst of the longest bout of writer's block ever, as I say often.  

Recently, Ewan will start talking nonstop; usually it's a story about Thomas the Tank Engine. The plots will get pretty complex, and so I'll ask him where he saw the episode or the book that the story came from.  Several times he has told me, "Nowhere, I made it up."  Then yesterday I had the movie "Becoming Jane," which I was going to watch later, and he asked me what it was about.  I told him it was about a lady who wrote stories.  I further explained, "All the stories I read to you, someone made those up in their head and wrote them down for all of us to listen to."  His face lit up, and he became very excited.  And then he told me, "That's what I would like, to be a writer."  My heart went all pitter-pat, then lodged itself in my throat as I told him, "I would love that."

He's just never expressed any thoughts or desires about what he would someday like to be, and the look on his face showed me he was very serious, and very excited that that was something he could actually do.  And I believe someday he will.