My baby loves bottles. You know, like water bottles and coke bottles. Of course, he really loves beer bottles best. He saw a beer bottle on the kitchen counter the other day and pointed to it. He said something like, “beer,” and the way he was looking at it with his eyes…I just knew that he wanted to hold it. But I’m paranoid about accidents involving a child walking with a bottle of any kind and falling on it, etc., so I told him that the bottle was Mama’s and that we were going to leave it on the counter. He looked at the bottle one more time, sort of like he was getting used to the idea that he would not be getting to hold the bottle. Then, he looked back at me, smiled a little, lifted his sippy cup upward and said, unmistakably, “Cheers!”
My baby loves bottles. You know, like water bottles and coke bottles. Of course, he really loves beer bottles best. He saw a beer bottle on the kitchen counter the other day and pointed to it. He said something like, “beer,” and the way he was looking at it with his eyes…I just knew that he wanted to hold it. But I’m paranoid about accidents involving a child walking with a bottle of any kind and falling on it, etc., so I told him that the bottle was Mama’s and that we were going to leave it on the counter. He looked at the bottle one more time, sort of like he was getting used to the idea that he would not be getting to hold the bottle. Then, he looked back at me, smiled a little, lifted his sippy cup upward and said, unmistakably, “Cheers!”
September 18, 2005 | 2 Comments
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