Today was just an amazing day. Got up early, worked on the shipments that needed to head out today, boxed them up and hit the post office. Talked to the Lil Momma for awhile and here is where the day gets "as good as it gets" (which is pretty good, yep up there on the amazing level). Pay close attention.
Here's the conversation:
Lil Momma: "Mom, I'm going to put you on speaker phone, OK? I'm fixing Webb's bottle."
Bitsy: "Sure sweetie."
Lil Momma: "Momma, Can you hear me?"
Bitsy: "Yep".
Lil Momma: "Oh Momma, you should see Webb's face. He hears your voice and doesn't know where you are."
Bitsy, as her heart melts and drips all over the floor . . . "Awhhhhhhhhh. hey Webb. It's Bitsy. Hey lil man. What's going on? Kate, what's he doin'? Is he smiling? Is he grinning?"
Lil Momma: "Yeah Mom, he is, but he has that "I'm not sure what's going on look. He . . . . . Oh Mom, I gotta go. Can I call you back? He sees his bottle and he wants it. He wants it NOW."
Bitsy, as Webb begins to pitifully wail: "Ok, Kate, Give him the bottle BUT it's NOT the bottle. He's obviously upset because he WANTS his Bitsy. See what YOU did to my baby. Call me later."
I ask ya'll . . . . . . . . isn't it amazing to be loved? Better yet, isn't "baby love" just the ticket? Isn't it just the cat's meow, the bees knees, the catepillar's spats? This woman is in a proclaimed state of grandbaby "awe". It's simply the best. I hope it never wears off.
On another note, we had another "prison break today". Baxter darted out the back door as the hubby came in from playing golf. Thankfully, it was peak time on the 8th hole and the one club member who didn't believe they had sighted a terrorist due to the white beard and crazed look, "snatched" him up and met the hubby on the cart path. I'm waiting for the call from Leon Panetta and Robert Mueller to tell me, he's on the watch list and sadly, I have a feeling there will be no flying for Baxter or Bitsy for awhile. Little jackass. He drives me crazy, but he is so loveable. There is justice in the world though . . . . as Baxter was out on his romp, Buddy snuck in and "snatched" the big ole ham bone that had been my gift to Baxter earlier in the day. Join me . . . . Let's say it together: "You reap what you sow. You reap what you sow."
Night ya'll. Oh, and by the way, I found the statue I want. Note the angel, in open dismay at the obvious loss. Yep . . . . It's exactly what I want, so ya'll remember this.
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