Troy’s current obsession is his Grandpa. His “G’duh’pa’duh” or “G’puh’duh,” to be more precise.

You see, to Troy, my dad’s name is Grandpa Dule. The “Dule” part has nothing to do with my dad’s name, and everything to do with my dad’s daughter, who is the queen of making up nicknames, one of which she bestowed upon her daddy when she was little. It stuck. Then, when we would jokingly wonder what our children would call my parents, we said jokingly that our kids would be confused and end up calling my dad Grandpa Dule. That stuck, too. Poor Dad. Or, Dule, as he’s more often called when I’m talking to him. :grin:

But Troy is completely in love with his Grandpa Dule these days. Every morning when he wakes up and every night before bed, he runs to my dresser, upon which sits a picture of my dad, John and my brother on our wedding day, signs “please” and cries for “G’puh’duuuuuuuuh!!” His routine is then to take the picture one of us has handed him, say, “Awww, G’puh’duh!” and plant a kiss on Grandpa Dule’s face. He also does the same thing whenever I sit down at the computer… only then, he wants to go to my mom’s blog and see the pictures Grandpa Dule and Grammie from Grandpa’s birthday post.

Needless to say, he was quite thrilled when he recently got to go to Grandpa Dule’s fire station for the day.

If you notice any blotchy-looking spots on these pictures, it’s because they were edited (albeit quickly and without my editing software available for use at the moment) for privacy.

Troy had to check out the whole place. and felt quite big hanging out with G’duh’puh’duh.

And then Grandpa Dule got a call, so Troysie got to do what his mommy did oodles of times when she was little–watch the guys scurry to get their gear on, get out the door, and listen to the dispatcher. We waved from the window as Grandpa Dule hopped in the fire truck and then Troy squealed when he heard his Grandpa’s voice coming over the radio into the station.

When Grandpa got back from the call, Troy got the grand tour–”driving” the truck, turning on the lights and all. Then he discovered that he and Grandpa were in the big side mirror. Being the very, ahem, humble little boy he is, he amused himself for quite a while by making faces in the mirror. Forget the fire truck! I wanna see ME! :grin:
His greatest wish? To be left all alone in the driver’s seat, door closed, window rolled up (i.e. with not a bit of help) and to be allowed to drive on his own. He didn’t quite get that wish, given, uh, the fact that there are only half a million buttons and levers and knobs to push in there.

Buuuuut, little did he know that the greatest fun was just around the corner, in the form of the water pump. Grandpa Dule showed him how to get water to trickle out of the pump. (Ha… I think that’s what it was. I’ve only been a fire fighter’s daughter my entire life, ya know, and have played with these very things, but still can’t be sure I’m right…) After that, he didn’t want to do anything else.

Mama’s hero and her bebe.


And Troy has only asked to give G’puh’duh about ten kisses in the process of putting together this post. A managable number, I’d say. Until bedtime, when it will be back to the picture on the dresser for Grandpa Dule’s night-night kisses.

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