No wonder my grandson has this bushy halo of autumn hair. Born Oct. 4, he looks like something freshly harvested, then brought to town on a wagon full of pumpkins.
Puddles, who just turned 2, also boasts a cowboy spirit and a Bozo smile. He is the kind of person others fuss over and surround.
True charisma? Wouldn’t know. Never had much of that myself, though I did once charm 200 Jewish women at a charity lunch at the Skirball Center. You have any idea how hard that is?
Still, a fluke, an aberration.
Maybe that’s why I adore Puddles. He’s got swagger. He’s got game. My grandson possesses all the good qualities that I seem to lack.
It’s as if God got a Mulligan.
