Time

Jim Croce wanted to take time in a bottle. I remember when he said just that, because I was already an adult when the song came out. I was on my own with two babies and two sisters to take care of, and vice versa. Poor Jim Croce could have put his time in a baby food jar by then, because he died very young. I was very young too. Now I'm not.

Just look at these galoots. They are not my babies from the Time in a Bottle days, they are my babies' babies. One of my babies hadn't even been born in Time in a Bottle days. It's even conceivable that my babies' babies could start having babies in the next few years or so. Well, the one in the red hat is 18, and Sunglasses Boy is almost 16. There is no question that they are WAY too young to reproduce, but the family track record says different. RH's mom was 20 when he was born and SB's was all of 17. See what I mean? These two boys love each other like brothers rather than cousins, and they both used to fit on my lap at the same time.

Do you see where I am going with the time thing?




This is my first boy. My first grandchild. Is there any question that I spoiled him rotten? He lived with me for many years and then went his way. My boys do that.



This is my second grandson. He's bigger than the first grandson, and it generally ticks first grandson right off. Not enough to matter. Second grandson lives with me now, along with his parents, sisters, brother, and dog. He is a good boy. Sometimes he acts like he's almost 16, but he'll grow out of that. Some do, and I think he will. if he sits on my lap he will squash me like a bug.



As a group (a mighty large one at that) we value family, love, and having a good time. We like to laugh, and it looks good on us. Looking at these boys reminds me that I'm not almost 16 anymore, even though it feels like it from my side of my eyes. Some of the best laughs we get are when sisters and I try to do things that were a breeze at almost 16, or even at the ripe old age of 18, and our old bodies fail to perform as they should.





At least I have one boy who can still be my baby. In this picture, he is three years old, almost foy. He's foy now and growing fast, but he says he will always be my baby. That's what they all say. At least he is still young enough to believe that if you have a goob, you should dig a goob. He usually brings me whatever he has liberated hanging on the end of his little finger. Lucky me. "Nana, I got a goob!"

Time will make this little guy keep on growing until he is as big as his bubby or his cousin. When that happens in 15 or 20 years, I'll think, "Dang. And I thought I was old when he was foy!"