Near the end of the evening, our oldest grandson approached me as I snuggled the current youngest baby of our growing clan...
Bub: Grammy, are you tired of holding babies?
Me: I never get tired of holding babies but I can share! (I handed off the baby to some of the many arms always ready to hold a little one. I'd already been alerted by my niece that I'd soon be asked to dance.)
Bub: Would you want to dance?
Me: I'd love to!
Me: Wow! How did you learn this so quickly?
Bub: Well, dancing is like my hobby. I like to dance.
Me: Well, you are good at it!
We continued to dance and talk.
Bub: Grammy, you smell like the farm.
Me: Oh, really? Your brother (Southern Gentleman) told me that once but then he said, "Nevermind. It's your perfume." What does the farm smell like?
Bub: Hmmm. Sort of smells like the cats. I like the way the cats smell.
Now I'm thinking...gee...I thought I smelled pretty good! I bathed this morning, I put on my perfume, I dressed up in clean clothes. Our cats are outside cats and I don't even pet them every day! Oh well. I guess if I smell like something at the farm he likes, I'm okay with that.
So, he can dance. Now to work on the small talk. Love that boy!