Thursday, 21 May 2015


Yesterday I told you I was embarking on the vacation of a lifetime: to wit, spending a week with my granddaughter, one Miss Piggly Wiggly. I could have opted for pristine Caribbean beaches and endless intravenous drips of Bajan rum, but I am not Rihanna anymore. Been there, done that, got the tattoo. (Don't ask. It was ill-advised and misspelled.) But nowadays, my idea of heaven is snuggling up with a fuzzy blanket and rocking this little terrorist to sleep. "Awww, that's so swe ... hey, wait; a TERRORIST? What kind of language is that to describe an innocent baby?" you ask because you have never spent the night with this innocent baby. 

Let me just tell you this about our Piggly Wiggly: She is tiny. She is irresistible. She is (due to a fairly serious health issue) extremely high maintenance. She doesn't eat enough to keep a bird alive. She wakes up three times a night for feedings that must be administered VIA EYEDROPPER. Then she wakes up at the crack of dawn, wide awake and full of mischief and ready for the whole chain of impossible events to commence anew, as you can see from this 12-second video I recorded. I call it Piggly's "Oof, tumbled over" moment and you will notice that, like a good grandmother, I recorded first and helped later. 
And before you go getting all shirty about the "terrorist" comment let me just say that this video was recorded at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. after a grand total of about 45 minutes of refreshing slumber. I believe it was Ghandi who said "Let he who is without sin judge Ms. Whorrified, for she is AWESOME." Or something like that? I may be delirious.