So I go in to get a flu shot. Looking at her computer screen, the nurse notices that several of our family members have gotten one. Yes, I explain, we're all trying to protect the new baby.
"How old is the baby?" she asks.
"He's four-and-a-half months now."
"Oh. Is he coming to see you, or are you going to see him?"
[Two-second pause of befuddlement, till it dawns on me]
"Oh, no -- he's ours."
Bless her heart, she was embarrassed. But she needn't be! The joy of having Oliver is so great that little things like that don't even register. Like Jacob's little Benjamin ("the son of my right hand"), Oliver too is "
very dear to me, set on my right hand for a blessing, the support of my age."
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| "Are you my grandpa?" |
