;)
As usual on Monday and Tuesday evenings, I strapped Kalib into his car seat and then drove him and Margie to Wal-Mart, where I dropped her off to go to work.
Normally, Jacob and Lavina return home about the same time that I get back - sometimes, they even meet us at Wal-Mart and take Kalib away from his grandpa. Hey - I know that's me, isn't it? "Grandpa!"
Even though I like being a grandpa, I can't get used to hearing that word applied to me, because it sounds like a word used to describe someone old, whereas I am still young. Absolutely. I am young and I intend to stay that way, no matter how old I get.
But I digress. Tonight, his parents didn't pick Kalib up. They called to say that there had been an accident on the Parks Highway and they were stuck in traffic that moved only occassionally, and then not very far.
So when we got home, I sat Kalib on the floor and watched him as he scooted around. He often looked up at me and made walrus sounds. I wonder where he learned to do that?
I made walrus sounds right back. I learned to do it from listening to walrus, and to Eskimos, making Walrus sounds during certain motion dances, or even just when they are very happy, like when they've caught a whale.
Given what happened with Martigne, you might think it wreckless of me to let Kalib get this close to Royce, but if you knew Royce, you would know the cat is in far more danger from the toddler than the toddler is from the cat.
As much fur as Royce has, he has lost great clumps of it to Kalib's yanking hands. Royce's eyes sometimes go wide when this happens, but Royce will take a mauling from someone he loves and never strike back.
He is that kind of cat.
And he is growing old - so very old.
And no kitten will ever call him, "Grandpa."
Sorry about that, Royce.