Thursday, July 21, 2005

Family Entry

This is Brett at one year of age: my third grandchild, and my daughter's firstborn.   Even at birth, you could see his resemblence to his daddy, Jerry.  He was his other grandma's first grandbaby, and she doted on him.

Sadly, I never got to bond with Brett as much as I did the previous two.  He was very young when Rachel and Jerry moved to Branson for a few months.  Later on, after they divorced, Rachel moved to Carthage, some three and a half hours away.

I do have some very unique memories of Brett, however:  I recall putting him in the little red wagon we had bought for Arick... walking to town, pulling him behind me.  There was still a grocery store in my small town of 780 people, at the time; and I'd buy him some grapes, or a box drink, which he'd somberly consume on the way home.

Brett never got excited about much.  Toss him in the air or tickle him as much as you liked, he remained, for the most part, unsmiling and sober.  However, he could do a great job of pouting, by the age of six months.

He hated mashed potatoes.  I didn't believe it when Rachel told me, and tried to sneak a bite or two into his mouth.  He gagged.  To this day, he hates mashed potatoes.

I was the first one to teach him to stand up and pee (while he was still wearing diapers).  I was so proud, and I pulled him to town in the wagon, right to his other grandma's house, wanting to show off his new skill.  She was not impressed.  In fact, she seemed to think I was some sort of pervert, teaching her grandson to pee in the yard like that.   

Bless her heart, Bonnie has been dead for a couple of years.  Nobody was ever prouder of a child than she was of Brett.  My daughter and I laughed at the way she always worried about "his little...." whatever.  If it appeared he might fall and bump his nose,she worried about "his little" nose.  If he stubbed his toe, she kissed "his little" toe.  You get the picture.

Brett is constantly in trouble these days.  Why?  Because he's sixteen! 

I love you Brett.  I'm so glad each of my grandchildren is unique! 



fierrorachel said...

Wow, what a beautiful little boy, in his little sweater, with a little smile on his little face!  I love that picture!  What a doll my teenage headache was 15 years ago.  He's still pretty (sorry son, there's no other word for it) but this pic just glorifies it!

nanlynska said...

My, what a 'beautiful' child ! I agree with Rachael....he's PRETTY. No wonder you are proud of him.
In the town where I grew up our pastor and his wife had a baby boy and he was, what we termed PRETTY. Black hair and deep blue eyes. I'll never forget him. Until now, I have never seen a child as PRETTY as Terrell Pruett was, but Brett is just as PRETTY. Just goes to show....God don't make 'junk'. Congrats on having such a fine looking baby boy. I'm sure he is a fine young man now.  

csandhollow said...

He sure was a beautiful baby!

plieck30 said...

Awww I like this entry Mosie. Paula

ryanagi said...

LOL If Brett reads your blog, I am sure he is cringing at your story of teaching him to pee standing up. LMAO!

cyandfayedavis said...

Wish you had included a pic of him now.  There may be one somewhere in your journal but if I saw it I didn't really realize who it was.  Now I would know.  Sounds a little like city vs. country upbringing.  Things looked a lot different when we were young.  But COUNTRY HAS HEART.  Peeing in the yard was just "peeing in the yard".  In my day we didn't even talk about peeing.