George and I got to babysit for his granddaughter Lucy, while her parents went out to dinner. It was a great way to spend a Saturday evening. Lucy wasn't all that happy when she arrived. She had been sleeping happily in the car, and then had the rude awakening of a cold night, a strange house, and the fact that her parent's were leaving. Triple threat!
She didn't cry exactly, but she wasn't that thrilled to be here either. George took her and walked her all around the house. He said he wanted to show her all the rooms so she would know where she was. I went into the kitchen to finish our dinner, and the house became silent. I came into the den, and George was watching TV, a children's cartoon program (which he hated), and Lucy was laying back on his lap. She was still as a mouse, and never moved. She looked all around, but she was quiet and resting.
They both stayed that way for a long time, and then Lucy saw the cat! That was the end of laying back. She sat up as if a mountain lion had come into the room. Thunder wasn't that curious about her (she had been here before), but Lucy's eyes because wide as saucers. She loved it and started to gurgle little sounds. "Kitty, Kitty", we said over and over.
Then we had our bottle, and our squash, and a few peas off my plate. She ate and gurgled and talked her own sweet language, and stayed right there on the couch nestled in with George. I brought her toys and she stayed right there and played. It was a sweet evening.
No roaming around. No fussing. She was a perfect little lady, and George was the perfect grampa.
Here's a few imperfect pictures.
Have a great day.
