G-Brats, Sabotage and Changing Babies

Last week was the 68^th anniversary of my birth.  As a present, my fifth Grand-brat was born the day before. Just what I wanted, the right size and shape. I think I’ll keep her. They named her something but I’m going to continue to call her Frosty until she understands enough to be confused.

They say Frosty’s name is Charlotte. It is a beautiful name. I told them out of all the hundreds of counties, cities and towns they could have named her after, I think Charlotte was the best choice.  Imagine a kid named Appomattox or Patamoke, or Henrico or Greenville. On the other hand I’ve heard worse than those.

Maybe later if they have a son he will be Prince Edward Jones.

Last week I went to pick up the daughter’s car which had died. When I got there I had to change a tire. No, it wasn’t flat. It wasn’t there.  “Where is it?” I asked G-brat #Three. “WE, (notice the amorphous WE) rolled it down the hill.” Of course they did, it was on the top of the hill, it was round and it rolled. What else would they do except roll it down the hill?

My question is why wasn’t it on the car? No answer to that. Then I needed the key to load it. Where is the key? A reasonable question I thought. No answer to that one either.

In spite of no key we got it loaded. As I was leaving the son pointed out that one of the tires on the dolly was bad. He recommended changing it before leaving. I declined. My rule is, if it is local, drive it as far as it will go.  I’ve seen people drive thousands of miles on slick tires.  Worse case, when it blows I’ll be closer to home. I prefer good tires but at this point my time is more valuable than that.

I made it exactly halfway home before it blew out, dropped it at a friend’s house who happens to live exactly halfway, plus a mile, to our house.  I made that mile singing “I just limped on down the shoulder on the rim” from Uneasy Rider.   I returned the next day with a spare and completed the job.

I have been asked several times this week if I intend to “change the baby” when I mention going to visit her. Absolutely Not. Why would I want to? We’ve waited too long for her to get here to change her. Besides, she’s prefect, I don’t think we could change her for anything better. 

I do intend to teach her some things, as my bride Management says “to warp her little mind” but I have no intention of changing her.

I just completed a project that has been planned for half a century. Fifty years ago, someone asked me my plans. I responded, “I want the American Dream, a little farm, a cabin with a picket fence, a perfect wife, two point five children (the national average at the  time), a dog and a cat and a few other random critters, a couple of barns to store stuff.”

Well, last week as I was visiting the new G-Brat I noticed a pile of fence pickets in the son’s trash pile. I brought them home and I now have “the picket fence.”  Don’t get excited, there is only eight feet of it but a picket fence is a picket fence no matter how long (or short) it is.

With the addition of the fence, eight feet of free used picket fence, I have completed my dream.