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| Ry and His Shoe |
A squadron of three grandparents and one dog made our way to Littleton Friday afternoon to babysit said little boy while Mommy and Daddy had a date.
Enthusiastic and indefatiguable Rylan was bringing me his little shoes, stuffing them into the cupholders in the rocking chair. After a dozen efforts with that he began licking and chewing his shoes, much to the horror of Grandmary.
Me, I remember his Mommy at that age sitting in the garden tasting clumps of dirt and bugs and figured he'd come to no lasting harm from his investigations. There were shoes outlining the sunroom. Rylan showed me a pair of Mommy's shoes, a black shoe and one red shoe. Every time he brought shoes to show me I would clearly articulate, "Shoes!" He would answer "Shhhhh." Shoes looks like an easy word on the page; to articulate requires three syllables: Shhh-yoo-zuh.
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| Papa Punkin, Mama Punkin and Little Bity Baby Punkin |
Four, five, six, we like tricks,
Seven, eight, nine, we're mighty fine.Now we're at ten, let's do it again!
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| Note Taid's Halloween Socks! |
Ten, nine, eight, who gets the red plate?
Seven, six, five, we're glad we're alive!Four, three, two, it's me and you.
Back to one and now we're done.
Okay, the sweetest part wasn't the shoes or the song, it was rocking Rylan and giving him his bedtime bottle and sniffing and kissing his silky red hair.
P.S. When they got home, Mommy was horrified to hear about shoe chewing: "Mo-o-m-m! You didn't!"