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Kevin, (having never had a nursery, nor a crib because we're "family bed" people) was, what I call, a "wandering baby". You never knew where he was going to be when you woke up. One particular morning during the holiday season (I believe it was "8 Maids a-Milking" day), I woke to funny little noises coming from the living room. Upon further inspection, those funny little noises turned out to be my barely-steady-on-his-feet baby boy, standing as high on tiptoes as his footie pajamas would allow, neck outstretched like a Serengeti giraffe, nursing the end of a peppermint stick. Apparently he had sucked the plastic wrap off the end, then continued to lick and slurp it to a sharp point. The funny little noises were his grunts and groans as he neared the end of his height range in relation to the dwindling candy cane. The look on his little face told me what his lack of verbal communication could not: "Me like sugar."
As a wandering baby he did many other funny little things like sleepwalk, pee on his sister (well, almost!), and sleep in the kitchen cabinet. Oh, other stories for other days!
1 comment:
:) love.
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