honey bear

Ok, here is why Charlie is so precious. Oh, whoops, I do not have 30000 hours to type them all, so let me just say that he, being all fat and little and toddle-y and soft and fuzzy, is exactly like a little bear. and who doesn't want a little bear? Are you kidding me? A pet bear? A little koala, perhaps, or a little brown bear, a cub? He weighs 35 pounds and I have decided that this is about exactly what a little cub would weigh. He is as rediculous and wild as one, strong, too, oh so very strong-- you can barely hold him when he wants "down", but when you put him down, he will run away so wobbly-fast that you have to run and get him and start the whole thing over again. I love it.

He does not like his stroller very much, as I think a little bear cub would not. He wants to shove the buckle down and off, to climb out the top, to run away and climb stuff instead. But when he hugs you, and you hold him right in front so as to break your wrist tendons just slightly less, he really, really is a little bear. I sniff his shiny curly head for a second before he bashes it into my jaw. He smells like honey, and I am not trying to be poetic or charming--I don't even like honey very much, it is bee's spit, literally, and it smells like it, too. Except that it also smells sweet and like flowers and freshness and you can tell it is not kroger brand syrup which is dead, but that it is honey, which is alive.