But there weren’t any frills upon it, so the 2-year-old must have thought “arrrrrrrrgh,” because his second attempt was to try it as an eye patch. The lad loves playing pirates, but he apparently saw the error of his ways because the cup obviously runneth over most of his face instead of his eye.
So he got down to business and put things in their proper places.
Although the look is rather fetching (somebody should caution him not to wear a white shirt with that color), I think he can downsize, don’tcha think?
While he’s checking out starters, he’ll probably stumble across the fact that he really should be looking at a cup of a different sort. Well, some day — and a day that will come in the blink of an eye, as Melissa will find out, as she already is discovering with the other three horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Although his varied attempts to wear what I used to call a double slingshot, in my immature days (some say they’re not over), may indicate that he’s unclear on the concept, evidence abounds that he knows exactly what bras are for. Time was, back before he was weaned from the trough, he would tug violently at Melissa’s blouse when he wanted a snort.
Speaking of snorts, all of this reminds me of an incident lo, those many days ago, when Vincent, who is 9 now, was just about the age that Patrick is now and frequently experienced withdrawal symptoms after his weaning.
One day, when he happened to be in the bedroom when Melissa was dressing. He looked longingly at his former sources of nourishment, and pleaded, “Can’t I just smell them?”
I used to relate that anecdote during speaking gigs about grandfathering to audiences who were mostly grandparents themselves, and usually mostly female. It invariably brought chuckles and an occasional guffaw.
In one case, I spoke to a group that was about 50-50 male-female. After peals of laughter subsided, a gentleman who appeared to be about 70 turned to his wife and whined, too loudly, as it turned out, “That’s all I want to do!”
That left many in the audience laughing so hard that they FOTCL, as the kids would say these days.
Sooooooooo, no matter how you wear your bonnet, or whether there are frills upon it, have a happy and holy Easter or, if you’re of Jewish descent, a blessed Passover season.
P.S.: In another example of the fact that kids say the darndest things, unwittingly leaving others with red faces, 7-year-old Jack was touring a police station today and the police officer took out his handcuffs to show the lads and the den leaders. Jack raised his hand and said, "My Papa Mike has handcuffs in his bedroom and I can get out of them without the key!"
Now, let me explain: Doesn't everybody have handcuffs around in case there's a burglar? Oh, never mind.
P.P.S.: Updating with a few Easter pix, triangulated to the points of my grandchildren stars from California, to the Twin Cities, to Florida.
Amelia, the sole granddaughter of the bunch (so far):
Avery, decked out in his three-piece suit:
And the Four Horsemen, from left, Patrick (he went with a braless look for Easter), Vincent, Luke, and Jack:
Here's the backstory on this photo: I used to drive Melissa bonkers when she was trying to take family photos, and I'd make a face to bollix up the works. Now is payback time for her, obviously
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