A Week Goes By

It amazes me when I write something and someone takes me seriously on this blog. I've gotten a lot of feedback on my post about toys. It seems that no one wants to buy Cooper a toy for his birthday because they think I'll get mad or something. I was half serious when I wrote that. True, he's got enough toys, but at the same time babies need toys, especially not the kind of toys that get stepped on which lead to new combinations of swear words being invented.

A sad shadow cast itself upon the family last week. Grandma Wilmoth died. Micole didn't like her. She says that's not true, but I know her well enough to know when she's lying. Of course, I'm just kidding. Micole got really mad at her one time when she kept calling Cooper fat. He's not even in the vicinity of fat and as anyone who knew Grandma Wilmoth knows the lady liked to talk. She kept calling Cooper fat. "Look at those fat legs. He's a fat baby. Marty had little bird legs when he was a baby, but that baby is fat." After 20 minutes of that refrain set on repeat, you probably would understand why Micole was a little angry.

Grandma talked a lot. When she got going, you had a better chance of getting a bone away from a starving Rottweiler than you did getting a word in with her. Now the silence is deafening. I will miss her. I feel bad for my grandfather. He's lost a daughter and a wife in just less than a year. He must feel like time is closing in on him.

Before we went to the funeral on Friday, we stopped to pick up Pappy. Now that Cooper is a very mobile child, he likes to explore. I either have to keep a watchful eye on him or follow him around to make sure that he doesn't get into any trouble. I let him walk around Pappy's house while I followed behind. Cooper walked around the corner to the bathroom where Pappy was getting ready. He looked up at Pappy, who then said "How you doin'?". Immediately Cooper screamed hysterically "aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" and went running, yes running, in the opposite direction. We got a good laugh out of it.

I don't know if I'll ever feel more fulfilled in my life than in those few seconds each evening when I get to carry a sleeping baby to bed. What will I do when there are no more babies?

Pictures for Grandma Stella, who reminds me every time I see her that I'm not doing my blogging job well enough.

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We expect to get the boy a haircut sometime this weekend.

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That's mommy's little piggy! Oink, oink.

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