One of Grandma’s favorite memories about daddy shared by Uncle Stan.

Jon was about 6-7 months old; crawling fast, but not walking; whistling, but not talking. Grandma Halle was playing with him at our local beach, when she realized that she needed to go potty. She took Jon into the stall with her, and put him down on the floor for a moment while she unbuckled her pants and sat down. He had crawled away under the stall and into each one down the row. When he encountered another lady sitting doing her ‘business,’ he looked up and did his best wolf-whistle. The lady got very upset, yelling “if he’s old enough to whistle, he’s damn well old enough to go to the Men’s Room himself!”