We’ve got the fever for this stinky boy

Far be it from me, that I be one of those columnists who endlessly write about their grandchildren.

Well, not that far.

Now, what I am about to say needs a disclaimer. Our two-year old grandson Reese is a joy. He is our sun in the mornin’ and our moon at night.

Yes LuLu and “B” have got the fever for this boy.

But I would just like to know one thng. How can something so cute, so wonderful, so adorable... be so destructive and, for lack of a better word, gross.

Actually I don’t need a better word. Gross is perfect.

Now I know my memory isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be, but I can say with 99 percent certainty that my two girls didn’t even come close to his gross-ness.

I’ve even seen our dog come over to him and smell him and cock her head to one side like “What the heck is that?” Then walk off in disgust.

He just plain stinks. And he enjoys stinking.

Nobody had to tell him that certain sounds, associated with certain bodily functions, are funny. He instinctively knew that.

His great-uncle Kevin is smiling somewhere. Actually, he is probably slapping his knee and roaring.

I won’t go into specifics as to why he is gross, some of the things make me nauteous if I even think about them.

His mother bathes him every night, that’s not the problem. But I swear the boy stinks 10 minutes after he gets out of the bathtub.

He won’t let me put good smelling lotion on him anymore. Or even put good smelling product in his hair.

This could also be because when I try to do that, his B yells “Leave that boy alone. He doesn’t like all that stuff.”

Also, he’s so destructive. I am not a big fan of figurines.

But I do like Demdaco angels. I took my two favorites to work so I could look at them on my desk every day.

Look what Destructo did to my Demdaco angels (below). He’s quick too. I don’t have any idea when he did this.

We all try to watch him and keep up with him at The Reporter because there is a lot to get into and destroy.

But how he got a hold of a handful of markers so quickly, I’ll never know. He even changed colors.

I don’t know how he broke the arm off of the other one. He probably threw it across the room to see if it would spiral like a football.

My poor angels. What is left of their faces are looking at me like “Why did you let this happen?”

It’s the same look that our dog and cats give us when he’s around. “Why is he here?”

It’s a good thing he’s so cute.

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2012-05-10 digital edition

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