Almost every evening after supper, my dad reaches for Moriah so my hands are freed up to either finish eating my own dinner or else get started with cleaning up the kitchen. He usually sits in the rocking chair, holds her on his lap so she can see him, and then starts whistling to her. Oh, not at all in a wolf-whistle kind of way. No, this grandpa whistles songs--all kinds of songs--to his littlest granddaughter: hymns, children's songs, anything that comes to mind. And Moriah loves it. If she's a little fussy as she sometimes is in the evenings, his whistling seems to distract her from whatever was making her uncomfortable. It's a wonderful thing. And the best part? Moriah will always know that the first man who whistled at her was not some random guy on the street, not a classmate or coworker, not that sort of admirer.
The first man to whistle at her was...
...her grandpa. ;-)
This is really sweet! (There have been evenings I've needed to borrow Moriah's grandpa!)
ReplyDeleteMaybe you can bring Rachel over, and he can perch her on his other knee and whistle at her, too!! ;-)
ReplyDeleteWhat precious moments - I love the way she's looking up at him.
ReplyDeleteJennifer - I love that, too! She's captivated by him. :)
ReplyDeleteWelcome to my blog, by the way. It's nice to have you here! :)
Perfect moments perfectly captured. One of the reasons I love your blog!
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