Murrow is his own menagerie. I call him my little BabyBeetleMonkeyBird, and he seems to like it, if only because he really seems to respond to the “B” sound. He’s a Beetle because when he’s on his back, he flails his arms and legs like a bug on its back. When he’s standing up (with help, of course) he reminds me of a Monkey with his big ears, and I just LOVE little monkeys. And he’s a little Bird when he flaps his little maw at me.
I also sing this to him in the tune of the William Tell Overture (you know, the Lone Ranger song). It’s just “BabyBeetleMonkeyBird” over and over and over again. Today I was singing and bouncing this to him at the checkout counter at the grocery store. Apparently poppa gets a little embarrassed by this. I can nurse Baby in public, and that doesn’t faze him. But sing a little song, and he turns a little red. Whatever, poppa.