‘AKA the Emotional Support Baby’
Well. We finally made it out to see The Child and the SIL and Mr. Baby. We tried to go visit them in Flagstaff a few weeks ago, but they got colds. Then we tried to visit them in San Francisco, and Dude Man caught a cold. (Actually, more like “the crud:” icky snorty sniffy symptoms that stuck around for what felt like forever — especially for The One Who Had to Keep Hearing About It.)
The Little Family in Flagstaff, before colds were caught
And boy, did we need this visit. Dude Man because he hadn’t seen His Babyness since Thanksgiving. And me because I lost my Mom not even a month ago. (Feel free to read my bittersweet little ode to her, “Beautiful Swan,” if you are so inclined — and have access to tissues.)
The Child was diligent with FaceTiming her Gramma. Here is a screenshot from one of their *sniff* last sessions
I have to say, even if this baby were not the most attractive baby ever to be born to any human, this trip would still have distracted us from fits of sadness and/or grief. What with all the activities we packed into three measly days, we were literally too busy to be sad.
Scott and Mr. Baby engage in a charm contest
We walked in Golden Gate Park, we went to Petaluma to play with Uncle Scott and Aunt Susan, we hiked on Mount Tam, we visited the Palace of the Legion of Honor.
Grampa and Mr. Baby resting along the Mt. Tram trail
Why, on Friday alone we spent three hours visiting Alcatraz, then marched from the pier up more than 1000 steps to reach Coit Tower. And after that, we prowled City Lights Bookstore. I’m exhausted just writing this paragraph!
The Child springs Mr. Baby from solitary confinement on Cell Block D. He was in the joint for stealing his Gramma’s heart
We still had lots of time to chill and engage in baby horseplay. These days, the Baby in Question is keen on chewing on his fist(s), grabbing anything orange, yellow or red, wriggling around while kicking mightily, and lighting up when he sees a person he likes. Which is practically everyone. I liked to glance to the rear as we were tooling about, to catch the gobsmacked expressions of the baby-spotters in our wake.
Mr. Baby appreciates a painting. But not nearly as much as the museum goers appreciated him
Grampa Wayne taught him to say “oooohhh” and Uncle Scott taught him the joys of peek-a-boo. And a splendidly good time was had by all.
Mom would have loved it.
Mom and I share a Baby FaceTime on my last visit
New York City. March 2025