For Grandpa’s final night in Alaska, we headed out to Palmer to have dinner at the Ale House. The food was very good, and the old, long rectangular building was very interesting. It reminded me of the rusty mills or train stations that scatter themselves throughout small town Wisconsin, usually sitting dusty and quiet in the hopes of opening again.

As is often the case, Henry wasn’t terribly interested in waiting at the table, so we walked laps around the building in the bright sunlight. After climbing on boulders in the parking lot and running around the outdoor concert stage, we soon ended up back inside chomping on fries and a hamburger.

The side of the building has a back door accompanied by a long sloping ramp for deliveries. Given that this is Alaska, the ramp is iron and textured for safe footing in the winter. Well, while running around after dinner on our way to the car Henry caught his toe and went face first into the iron grate. I have never heard such screaming, but not to worry – his face was uninjured because his hands took the entire brunt of the fall.

His knees were scuffed and his hands looked downright ugly, but after calming down he allowed mommy to rinse his hands and bandage them up. He took it well and settled down for the hour long ride home.

He didn’t like it, but he stood still back at home as we cleaned the wounds, applied antibiotics, and finally bandaged him for bedtime.

By next morning he was eager to keep the bandages on as long as possible because they were neat. He also couldn’t be slowed down from sharing his story. “I fell on a cheese grater.”