The great Cheech-Meister has left me. Granted, he'll be back in a month (just in time for his first birthday), but I do miss the little guy already.
I sat with him on my bed this morning listening to Guns n' Roses and smiled as he rocked back and forth, clapping his hands (sounds a bit special, eh? Well, given the fact that he has little or no control over most of his movements, he's doing very well for himself thank you very much).
He digs Guns N' Roses, Maroon 5, Dave Matthews Band, and The New Pornographers seemingly more than anything else we've played for him. I've taught him well.
Oh my Cheech.
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