A little Irish boy

The glass dish crashed to the floor. Did I assume it wise to give a toddler a glass plate filled with chicken cubes, sliced strawberries, ketchup for “dip-dip” and “troll trees” (broccoli, because you have to make it fun)? Duffy, our twelve year old Yellow Lab, waiting beneath the chair where Mick stood/sat eating his lunch ready to lick up any bits that might fall or be thrown. Just inches away, I quickly turned to grab Mick as he climbed the bar stool to the floor. He was DONE eating and off to the next thing that piqued his interest.

Grabbing the roll of paper towels, I headed toward the shattered dish and food bits pushing Duffy away as he coughed and smacked his lips, he had scored at least a couple of licks.

Suddenly I looked for Mick. He had climbed on the kitchen table and spinning the lazy susan around he had found the salt and pepper shakers, pushed the plastic caps on the bottom inside each. Both shakers were emptied on the table as he smiled in amazement. What was this spicy mixture that was causing him to sneeze continuously?

This is life with our 7th grandchild Mick Francis Garrity. 

All of the grandchildren are unique in their personalities which is always amazing to me. How can a child be so different from a sibling when they hear the same words at the dinner table, receive the same corrections and directions? But, they are!

Mick’ s name is perfect for him…the rough and tumbling little three year old he is. Polar opposite from his brother Jude. But, the name conjures up images of a stocky boxer with flaming red hair and freckles. Our Mick is smaller than his brother was at this age, but he is filled with fire and energy. Yet he has a huge heart when he is willing to share it. 

I cannot wait to see what adventures this little guy will take us on.

Love you Mick Francis Garrity.

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