Why My Grandson Insists He's Charlie Sheen's Son

As if Charlie Sheen doesn't have enough problems -- now my grandson thinks he's his father.

My 21-month-old grandbaby, Henry, and his mom came over for a visit yesterday. My daughter carried with her the latest issue of People magazine whose cover flaunts an almost full page-sized, air-brushed head-shot of Sheen, apparently from a healthier time.

"Watch this," my daughter said.

"Henry, who's this?" she said, pointing to the magazine cover.

"Daddy," he said matter-of-factly, then toddled off.

"Bwaaahaaahaaaa!" my daughter roared.

In my grandson's defense, his father works in the acting and modeling business, too, so it's not unusual for him to occasionally see his dad's face in catalogs, videos, and on television commercials. Plus his papa's been working on the road a lot lately. I suppose it's not easy for a 21-month-old to remember what his old man looks like when everywhere you look lately you see Charlie Sheen's mug.

Perhaps this explains the spitting incident.

"Don't spit," my daughter instructed Henry with a warning tone when I handed him a strawberry milk box with a straw protruding from it.

I looked at her questioningly, as he was simply standing there innocently sipping his milk.

She went on to tell me that she had given him a milk box earlier that morning and sat him on the couch to watch one of his favorite DVD's while she prepared breakfast. "I'd been thinking about how nice it is now that he can entertain himself for a few minutes now that he's a little older," she interjected.

Once he was situated on the couch with his milk, she went into the kitchen to get breakfast ready. Within a few moments she heard Henry let out a boisterous laugh from the living room. Joining in the fun she echoed his laugh from the kitchen. A few seconds later, he laughed loudly again. Again she playfully mimicked his laughter, happy that he was enjoying his DVD. The laughing and copy-cat cackling went back and forth, from living room to kitchen, for several minutes. Finally, when my daughter was done making breakfast, she rounded the corner into the living room just in time to see Henry, standing, facing the back of the couch, spew a mouthful of milk he had just sucked out of the straw into the air and all over the back of the couch -- and then let out a delighted squeal. The brown leather sofa was completely covered with white milk droplets -- the arms, the cushions, the back -- milk was everywhere.

Momma did not echo his laugh this time.

"He was apparently laughing every time he spit a mouthful of milk onto the couch," she deduced. "And there I was in the kitchen laughing right along with him!"

Well, what do you expect? I guess I'd spit, too, if I thought I was related to Charlie Sheen, and my own mother thought it was funny.