The continuing exploits of Mr. Finnegan as he conquers the world with his cuteness.

The parents of one’s parents are called “Grandparents”.  This interesting fact has been on my mind as of late, being that I have been having much concourse with Nana Pam, Papa Henry, and Grandma Pat. As it so happens, they are all my “Grandparents”. Who knew?

Papa Henry is the one with the mustache.

Papa Henry and I

Nana Pam is the one who always tells me what the animals say. Did you know that the cow goes “Moo!”?

Nana Pam and I

Grandma Pat is the one who plays the piano with me. Our recent compositions are quite challenging.

Grandma Pat and I

I did recently meet my Grandfather John, so I am told that this completes the “Grandparents”.

It is strange to think that such big people as my mother and father need mommies and daddies. Do these grandparents keep my parents from chewing on electrical cords too? I was hoping that such supervision would end some day.

I received a most enjoyable visit from my maternal granparents this Thursday, a visit for which I had made exceedingly careful preparations. At my behest, Father and Mother indulged me by launching into a veritable frenzy of house-cleaning. I simply felt that when entertaining it is of paramount concern that one present a clean and tidy appearance, both of house and of person.

As to the second point, i.e. my person, I insisted on a thorough washing of my entire body. This, of course, required the assistance of Mother, as I have yet to convert the unlimited depths of energy contained in my flailing of arms and stomping of legs into any semblance of useful motor skills, such that I might wash myself without the aid of others.

Father was tasked with the assiduous cleansing of surfaces permeating our abode, as regards floors, counters, and walkways. Rugs were also left within his purview, and he dealt with them accordingly, which is to say with much shaking and pounding out of doors. Father acquitted himself with great aplomb, leaving the household free of the detritus of our animal companions that often plagues our living spaces and collects in the interstices of our lives. “Bunnies of the dust” I believe you call them.

And then the visitors arrived. How we laughed and gambolled about, lost in the joys of common pleasures, talking of times and places past and future. My maternal granparents are a most frolicsome pair, and I found myself most entertained by their frequent drolleries. Papa Henry was most jocular, as is demonstrated in the daguerreotype below.

Papa Henry and I

After so much give and take, jib and jibe, we settled into a warmly familliar calm that included a most satisfying meal provided by Nana Pam by way of a bottle.

Nana Pam and I

Such were the idylls of our buccholic autumn repast. Much was achieved, much was accomplished, all were satisfied.