Just to see what would happen, I whistled "my whistle" (the one my Dad used my whole life to get my attention or to get me to come without yelling my name) to Colton from across the house. I whistled a couple of times, and then I heard it ... "I'M COMING, MOMMY! HERE I AM! I'M COMING!" And a little boy came running around the corner into my room where I was waiting to see what he would do. It's funny how things transfer from one generation to another without much effort. I like it ... and I think I'll use it more often.
And on a side note: Whenever I'm in Kansas City at my Dad's house, he will whistle for Colton ... and I have--several times--called out to him in response or come into the room to see what he wanted ... only to realize, he's not whistling for me anymore--I'm 31 years-old. I guess some old habits never die!
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