\u00a0<\/div>\n

My Daughter-in-love gave me a rundown on the milk bottle. These are much more technical now. The cap and nipple break down into four separate pieces, and there’s a baffle to prevent the rascal from ingesting air and burping like a trucker who just finished the Fifth Wheel steak and mashed potato special.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The formula left behind on the counter came from goats, but the boy likes it. Heck, I like goats.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The holding and nurturing came more naturally after ensuring my wristwatch would not scratch his little melon when I moved and cautiously practiced hand-to-hand, side-to-side transitions without losing traction on that all-important neck support.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

You can learn a lot from a mother. I do pay attention when mothers hold their children. I’ll never be as smooth or polished, but I’ll make it work.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The diapering came back to me, and he withheld spraying his Gramps until later. There was a time when I was concerned his father would become a firefighter during his earliest years; he loved to hose me down.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The best part of our afternoon was watching him try to fall asleep. He fought the urges, trying his darndest to keep his eyes open. An infant, or puppy, failing to hold off a nap is one of the most calming things I have ever witnessed. I should have recorded it to watch it again at two a.m. while trying to return to a slumber of my own.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Once I figured out how to place him in the little crib, he gave up on sleep. Instead, he just talked to himself in the back bedroom. His language is foreign to me, but it sounded friendly and reassuring.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

As a faulty human, it was satisfying enough that my care provided him with comfort and security, allowing him to relax and chat about whatever topic crossed his mind.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

We left the door ajar so that we could listen. He carried on for an hour.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

When his Mama arrived, she placed him in his car nest. He looked up at her adoringly. Suddenly, without even the warning of a blinking eye, sleep settled over him like a warm velvet blanket.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

That’s what he wanted\u2014the same thing we all want\u2014the ability to feel so safe that we can sleep soundly.<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

From the Jagged Edge of America, I remain,<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

TC<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

It is the generosity of my readers who keep this show on the road. Thank you to all the supporters from BuyMeACoffee. A special shout-out to all who support us regularly, both through individual donations and the Royal Order of Dooryard Visitors, who commit to monthly support for a mope from Maine for written entertainment. I appreciate all of you equally. I’d give you all a hug, but it would be weird.<\/div>\n

Tim<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

She dropped the tiny human right in our laps. He’s my grandson, but it’s been over five years since I changed a diaper on anything this small.The first official babysitting duties were underway. \u00a0 My Daughter-in-love gave me a rundown on the milk bottle. These are much more technical now. The cap and nipple break…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":75343,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"pgc_meta":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[17,19],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-75341","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog-posts","category-home-posts"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/75341","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=75341"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/75341\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/75343"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=75341"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=75341"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=75341"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}