No, this is not about Twitter. It’s about that feeling described in Bambi:
Thumper: Why are they acting that way?
Friend Owl: Why, don’t you know? They’re twitterpated.
Flower, Bambi, Thumper: Twitterpated?
Friend Owl: Yes. Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example: You’re walking along, minding your own business. You’re looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a pretty face. Woo-woo! You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head’s in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you’re walking on air. And then you know what? You’re knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head!
That’s the way I’m feeling now, having laid my eyes on my sweet niece’s daughter. Many thanks to technology for that amazing feat.
This is my niece’s second child, and her sweet little family lives 2,000 miles away. My sweet, great-nephew, Baby J, will now be Big Brother J. Judging by the video of him dancing two days ago, he’s not really a baby anymore, so this is appropriate. He turns three in July, so my niece, who I nicknamed Lil’ Mama (LM) long ago, will have her hands full. A family friend is going up there to help out, and then they drive back together mid-April. It will be almost a year since we last saw them, and our first meeting of Baby M. It’s the longest any of us have been apart since we met LM and her sister almost twenty years ago when my brother started dating their mom. It’s been killing local family members to be so far away.
Friend Owl: Same thing every spring. “Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet! Tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet!” Love’s sweet song. Hm! Pain in the pinfeathers, I call it!
Baby M and her mother are doing well, Praise Baby Jesus for the safe delivery via c-section. They are surrounded in love from all around the country, and I’m thrilled that LM’s sister is there to take pictures and keep us updated.
Welcome to the family, Sweet One. You’ve been long awaited and will be utterly spoiled. Can’t wait to hold you in my arms next month. I’ll try my best not to get any tears of joy on you. No promises.