At a little over two months old, Cullen is a handsome little boy. Blue eyes, strawberry blond hair, and a smile that could win anybody over…even me. I’m not what you would call a “baby person”. At least I haven’t been until now. Kids love me – they really do – and I’m okay with them as long as they’re going home with someone else. This little guy, though, well…we’ll call him an exception to the rule. He sleeps just fine around me. As a matter of fact, he fell asleep while I was holding him this afternoon. Cute little bug. He’s pretty content with everybody except his mom and dad (my younger brother and sister-in-law) when it comes to sleeping, so I hear, haha! Grandma (my mom) has the magic touch when it comes to singing, talking to, and cuddling with Cullen. He’s an active little guy when he’s awake! He squiggles all around and imitates my mom’s hand gestures when she’s talking to me and not looking at him. That was funny to watch today!!! My sister-in-law and brother came home from shopping and my mom and I were visiting and watching Cullen while he was sleeping on a soft quilt my mom had laid on the floor. My sister-in-law said that, the other day when my mom wasn’t there, she had told Cullen, “Well, no Gramma today. It’s just you and me,” to which Cullen replied with sounds closely resembling, “Uh-oh.” Hahaha!!! His first word! “Uh-oh.” Funny!!! When my mom was singing along to some music earlier today, Cullen was trying to sing along. He wants to talk and is a social fellow. He likes people and he tries to be part of the conversation. That’s a really good sign, I think. It’ll help him fit right in at the crag when I teach him to climb!!! That’ll be a little while yet, though. Holding our head up by ourselves comes first, I think… 🤔 💭
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.