Two hours, 58 minutes, and 13 seconds into the movie “Gone with the Wind,” Melanie Wilkes turns to the world’s most famous red petticoat wearer and remarks, “Oh, yes, Mammy. The happiest days are when babies come.”

I tend to agree with Mrs. Wilkes, and the days surrounding them aren’t so bad either, especially when you get to keep the new baby’s big sister for a week, but I’m jumping ahead of myself. Let’s go back to labor day (in the truest sense) and the morning we were entrusted with the care of the 15-month-old darling as her parents sped off to the hospital.

After an appropriate period of admiring Darling, we had to contend with her car seat, one of these diabolical new versions with a five-point harness. Fortunately my husband (who you may remember chose to be called “Boss” by this and all future grandchildren) is one of the rare men who actually reads the instructions on such equipment. He learned the importance of doing so after an unfortunate swing set assembly episode two decades ago, but we won’t go there, at least not in this column.

So we went about our business – Boss went to work, we ran errands – all the while waiting on THE CALL from our son. It was fun to have Darling in the grocery cart and a diaper bag by my side again, but I had forgotten how tough it is to change a toddler in the backseat of a car in August.

Aghast at my plans to do just that, the 13-year-old aunt who does anything but dirty diapers sputtered, “You’re not going to change her out here, are you?”

“Well, you aren’t, are you?” I laughed, feeling my confidence return. “Stand back, Honey,” I told my horrified daughter. “This is what separates the grannies from the girls.”

Back at home we did the nap thing, the juice thing and the stroller thing, continuing to wait on THE CALL. My primary objective, as I saw it, was to keep Darling fed, well-rested, and safe. My husband’s sole objective, on the other hand, was to make sure he is her most preferred person on the planet. His strategies toward that end included food, which is why I thought nothing of it when I later saw him hovering around her high chair.

After a while I noticed he looked a little worried, so I came closer and found Darling lapping up a pile of my friend Patti’s homemade ranch dip like there was no tomorrow. Even in a “Hello Kitty” bib, it wasn’t pretty.

Boss, who didn’t seem quite so bossy now, confessed. “I messed up and gave her some, then she didn’t want the sandwich anymore.”

Nodding, I quietly set about cleaning Darling, the tray and the floor, then looked at my husband (who was cleaning nothing) and asked, “Could you please say that again?”

“What, that she didn’t want the sandwich anymore?”

“No, no. The ‘I messed up’ part,” I told him. “I could never hear that enough.”

Just then a text (rather than THE CALL) interrupted his recitation, informing us that labor day had turned into labor night with the promise of labor tomorrow. Boss and I just looked over at Darling, who was still begging for more dip, and smiled.

You know, Melanie Wilkes was right. The happiest days are when babies come – and toddlers visit.

 Wesson resident Kim Henderson is a freelance writer who writes for The Daily Leader. Contact her at kimhenderson319@gmail.com.