The only creatures that are evolved enough to convey pure love are dogs and infants. ~Johnny Depp
For the past three weeks I have been unequivocally spellbound by a lilliputian angelface, my grandson. He is so doggone cute and with a personality to boot. I don’t say this because I’m a grandmother; I say this because it’s true. Charlie was released from the preemie ward due to his champion achievements in being a baby. The day he went home to his childhood haunt was a day I’ll never forget and neither will Gramps. Charlie’s parents didn’t share their news of his impending release, because they wanted to surprise us. And, surprise us, they did! When our daughter, Charlie’s mom, wanted to show me the new mamaroo, one that is similar to the one in the hospital, I believe I mumbled something on the order if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I was headed to get a cup of coffee. My daughter insisted that I check out the new mamaroo and guided me over to the little cot. I saw the top of a tiny blond head and was thinking, toy doll. I proceeded to move an extension containing a bauble around to this tiny head, and my daughter exclaimed, THAT’S CHARLIE!. My befuddlement soared to exhilaration. Yes, Charlie is home. In his room there are big letters on the wall that spell out, Let the adventures begin!