This morning, in order to distract Baboo from the sad fact that his beloved Daddy was going upstairs to shower, I asked him where Baby Boy was. (And yes, I know. We really should give this doll a name, but it’s just not very high on the priority list.)
The baby was still standing at the gate making unhappy noises, so I inquired again where the doll was. Then I asked if perhaps he needed a fresh diaper.
Well, that did it. Baboo went over and got the doll, and we checked his diaper together. Then we did and undid his shirt several times, or rather I did his shirt several times and Baboo undid it, because while he is very good at opening the little Velcro fastening, he’s not very good at closing it. And he loves to open it.
Baby Boy gave Baboo a few thank-you hugs, which he responded to by cocking his head to the side and giggling, shoulders up by his ears.
This, my friends. This is what I live for. This is my wheelhouse.
Mama-Come-Lately 
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