being patient...

Okay, this is the guy I was supposed to spend my day with today. Tuesday night I admitted defeat and called his parents. My back is not going to be well enough by Thursday to watch him. I can't bend or twist in the least without triggering vicious stabs of pain and electric feeling twinges in the hip. I definitely can't lift a 17 pound baby boy.



So here it is Thursday and I looked at these pictures of him last night and felt very sad. Today is not the Thursday I hoped to be having... Look at those juicy little legs, that smile...I wanna nuzzle that neck, nibble those toes, listen to him laugh. I gotta be better by next week.



And we had to cancel the t.c.'s sleepover Saturday night too. Sigh. A long time ago I used to nuzzle and nibble that guy and carry him around by the hour. Now he's a busy man. Last time I called him on the phone, this was our conversation: "Hi Gramma. Can I talk to Tim?" Oh yah. That's okay. I know I'm not as exciting as Tim. I mean, who really could be?

But the sleepover was going to be superbly fun. They always are, just a loud, crazy riot. Plus I'd get to see his baby brother, and that guy's getting awfully sassy lately too, cruising the furniture, stuffing things in his mouth.

The story is he ate a box elder bug in his own kitchen at home, freaked his mother right out. I'd pay for video of that episode. (Poor Dannell. It is awful. We shouldn't be laughing.) Why do babies eat bugs if they can? They're nuts, that's why.

I know, I know, it could totally be worse, and there will be no unraveling into a pity party. It's time to be a good sport and I am definitely getting better. But still. love, Val