My daughter is the most beautiful little girl ever. I know I know. I’m partial, right? Wrong. I’m flat out honest. I’ve seen some babies born within the last year that are down right homely. There is nothing cute about them. The only thing they have going for them is the are compact and they move easily.
But about my Little Bear…This weekend, the silver sloth broke down with Shady and little bear @ the helms…they were on their way to pick me up from work. Shady called me and said, “The car…it won’t go more than about 20 mph and it is starting to overheat! What do I do?” I told her to pull it over and I’d hitch a ride out there (it was only about 7 minutes from the restaurant). By the time I got there, Shady’s dad (Gruff) was there and unloading little bear and the typical baby stuff.
We opened the hood and looked around…Everything seemed normal until we cranked it. Not good!!!!
Anyway…long story short…we stay @ the Gruff and Nana’s house over the weekend to work on the car.
Saturday night Shady and I are sharing a double bed or whatever size is just smaller than a queen. Little bear is sleeping in her pack-n-play in the same room. Bear wakes up when I start to snore (of course, I was snoring…I didn’t hear her wake). So next thing I know, I feel this little hand on my face. I open my eyes and little bear giggles. Then she looks at me and mutters, “P—P—Pop Pop.” She said it so softly as not to wake the birds outside. I smiled with an I’ve-only-had-one-hour-of-sleep-but-darn-isn’t-that-the-best-thing-ever smile and touched her face. “*Little Bear*,” I said . She giggled. Then she looked at Shady and turned over and went to sleep.
That little girl has the ability to melt away a day’s anger and frustration of a blown up vehicle with just a simple, “P—p—Pop Pop.)
That was the first time she called to me. We’ve been trying to have her call me Popi, but Pop Pop is just fine with me. As long as she calls on me.