This is Jones.Robert Jones Pressley, if you're feeling formal.
Born October 16, 2012, Jones is twenty-something pounds of pure delight.
He takes "pure delight" in things, like riding tractors, wearing hats, and sucking the love out of his thumb(s).
His favorite people are his grandparents, but come bedtime, all he wants is his mama.
And his thumb.
And a chorus or two of his favorite lullaby.
He's called "Bug," because way back when he was a little bitty baby, I'd squeeze him and say, "You are my LOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEE Buggerson." Where the "Buggerson" came from, I don't even pretend to know, but I do know that it was soon shortened to "Love Bug" and, ultimately, "Bug," unless it's first thing in the morning when it's "Bug-a-boo," as in "Where's my Bug-a-boo" and "Bug-a-boo, Bug-a-boo, Bug-a-boo-boo-boo. Bug-a-boo, Bug-a-boo, Bug-a-I-LOVE-YOU!"
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