As you can see, Bebe Z thought it was an excellent idea to pull up on the dear nonagenarian's legs.
Our two-year-old had lots of (sometimes uncomfortable, high volume, and overly honest) questions for Mom Mom's peers, like: What's that lady riding in? Is she asleep?
One of the best parts of the weekend was the box of old books procured from the attic of Mom Mom's homestead. Most of them were from the 1800s. I marveled at the fonts, but most of all the inscriptions and sepia-toned, inked names of my husband's relatives. My favorite is a french version of the New Testament once owned by "Anna Valentine." (And yes, I'm calling dibs on that pen name. So when you see poisonous tirades on housing developments or Monsanto, written by sweet little Anna Valentine, be suspicious.)
I like the thought of passing down my heavily annotated books to my girls, and their children, and so on. Any favorite old books you have on hand?