Because I’ve been caring for Billy and his fractured vertebra, I haven’t had much time for getting acquainted with little Weston. When Ciera and Andrew brought him over for Christmas dinner, they thought it was a good time for us to get together.
I wasn’t so sure . . .
This isn’t so bad. He’s pretty darned cute . . .
Uh-oh . . .
I once knew of a lady who no sooner got on a horse than it ran away with her. She swore she had an electric bottom. I think I may have an electric lap.
Oh, well. Maybe with more experience . . .
In the good news department, Billy got in David’s truck and drove around with him, checking on the place for the first time in months. He said the place looked really good. (Implied was, “A lot better than I expected.”) Tomorrow he plans to get in his own pickup and make his usual rounds. Everyone will be happy to see him out there supervising again; but even he admits the “boys”, (they’re in their fifties) have done a great job. But it’s time for him to get out there.
And for me to have more time for great-grandma practice. If I don’t chicken out!