We got back Monday night after an unexpected trip to Nashville to honor the life of Joseph Peabody, the 4-year-old son of some dear friends who just passed away after battling cancer. This silly blog was never meant to be a spot to wrestle with agonies such as these (and I would do a terrible job trying), so instead I'll share one of my favorite personal moments with Joe P.
Prepare to be astounded by my babysitting savvy.
Joseph was probably around 17 months old and we decided to take a trip to Target so that his mommy could sit down for 2 seconds together (she was about 8 1/2 months pregnant with her daughter, Holly). Anywhere else and Joseph would be running at approximately 62 mph, but place him in a Target shopping cart and he'd sit there wide-eyed as long as you'd stroll him around. It was magical. So here we are, taking in the Home Improvement section, and he asks me for a sip of my Dr. Pepper. (Enter my savvy.) I say, "Sure, here you go!" (Reminder: I had not had children of my own.) Joseph takes a nice big gulp, then gives me a look of confusion and horror and delight. Priceless expression that surprised me and made me giggle. I thought he'd love it, and it hadn't occurred to me that perhaps Allen and Gillian didn't give there one-year-old carbonated caffeinated beverages on a regular basis. Joseph ponders this experience for a moment, then asks for another sip. As I offer my straw, he leans in tentatively, then jerks back with a huge grin, shaking his head emphatically. Total fake out! Fantastic! I adore a kid with a sense of humor. We played this game for another 5 minutes or so, then eventually we headed back to mommy. As I was relaying all this to Gillian later, she just laughed and said, "Yeah, he's never had soda before!" Oh.
Crazy Aunt Sallie came with us to Nashville to watch Andrew and his beloved Baby Marie for us. (Thank you, Aunt Sallie!) She must have ridden the hotel eh-ticka-ticka-ticka a thousand times to amuse the little ones while we were gone. Andrew also got a huge kick out of the fact that the microwave in our room was right on his level. He had to practice a bit before he was able to open the door without it smacking him right on the nose.
So now here we are, huddled in our house while Fay spits at us, thinking constantly of our friends and trying to focus on the many days spent enjoying them, their gloriously wackiness, and their beautiful children.