Dry County

I always enjoy dropping in on my Grammy, not only because it usually means I’ll get to watch two episode of Golden Girls back-to-back, but also because she’s guaranteed to say at least one delightfully daffy thing per visit.

The other day, for instance, we brought The Squirrelly up to Grammy’s. We also brought along a bottle of milk, knowing that we’d be there a spell as it’s well nigh impossible to carry a baby through a retirement community and not have each and every resident stop you to administer cheek-pinchings to the yungin’..

Indeed, halfway through our visit the kid started to cry in that “you’d better feed me quick or I’ll give you something to cry about” sort of way. While I reached into our bag to retrieve the bottle, The Queen turned to Grammy and asked, “would you like feed him?”

“You want me to nurse him?!” She exclaimed in alarm. “Why, I don’t think I’d be able!”