Okay, so his name isn’t exactly Charlie R. And he isn’t really MY grandbaby, though I like to pretend he is. But he is definitely THAT BABY, loved and adored, fussed and fretted over, and definitely spoiled by me, the Granny-Nanny.
My favorite part of the day is when Charlie R. gets his noontime baby food pouch, we play a bit and then he gets tired. I can always tell when he gets tired because the thumb goes to the mouth. That is when I pick him up.
When he is tired he is a little cuddle bug. He always turns towards me. Very often he puts his little cheek to mine and I will begin singing to him the Primary songs I learned when I was child so many years ago.
Usually he fights sleep, ever restless in my arms. He twists from side to side but he does not try to escape. He just tries to keep his eyes open. He puts his face back near my face eventually snuggling his head to one of my shoulders though there are times his head simply drops onto me from the shear exhaustion of his effectual struggle.
He is out. Zonked like a rubber chicken. To be sure he is dozed long enough to put him in his portable crib without him waking, I gently lift his hand a little to see if he is truly in the rubber chicken state. If he does not stir then it is definitely time to proceed to the crib.
With pride I think, mission accomplished.
Oh how I love THAT BABY!