{"id":2847,"date":"2025-09-11T10:59:38","date_gmt":"2025-09-11T10:59:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847"},"modified":"2025-09-11T10:59:38","modified_gmt":"2025-09-11T10:59:38","slug":"the-baby-nurse-called-my-son-ours-while-rocking-him-to-sleep","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847","title":{"rendered":"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0The first time she said it, I thought I\u2019d misheard. My body was aching from labor, stitched and swollen, but I shuffled down the hallway when I heard the faint lull of a nursery rhyme. I stopped at the doorway. She was rocking him in her arms, humming softly, the glow of the nightlight catching the strands of her dark hair. And then I heard it\u2014clear as a bell. \u201cGo to sleep, little one. Ours loves you so much.\u201d Ours. My stomach tightened like a fist.<\/span><\/p>\n

We had hired her three weeks before my due date. Her name was Marissa, a baby nurse recommended by one of my coworkers. She had glowing references, a calm presence, and the kind of quiet confidence that makes you feel safe handing over your fragile newborn. When she arrived at the hospital the day we brought my son home, she moved through the nursery like she\u2019d lived there her whole life\u2014arranging bottles, folding blankets, adjusting the monitor. I was grateful. Exhausted, hormonal, terrified, I clung to her efficiency like a lifeline. My husband, Ryan, kept saying, \u201cShe\u2019s a godsend.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> And she was. At first. She let me sleep. She taught me how to swaddle tighter. She whispered little tips that made me feel less like a fumbling stranger in my own motherhood. I wanted to trust her. I wanted to need her.<\/span><\/p>\n

But then came that word. Ours.<\/span>
\n<\/span> At first, I told myself it was a slip. Maybe she meant to say \u201cyours.\u201d Maybe I was paranoid from lack of sleep. But the next night, when I hovered outside the nursery door again, I heard it once more. \u201cShh, baby boy. Ours is here. Ours will always take care of you.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> My chest tightened. My hands started to shake. I walked in, trying to keep my voice calm. \u201cDid you just say \u2018ours\u2019?\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> She froze. Her arms tightened around my son almost protectively. Then she smiled, too quickly. \u201cOh\u2014you heard that? It\u2019s just a silly habit. I always call babies \u2018ours\u2019 when I care for them. Like\u2026we all share love for them, right?\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> I wanted to believe her. But the way she said it, the way her eyes lingered on him like he belonged to her too, it made something primal in me bristle.<\/span><\/p>\n

The days blurred together\u2014feedings, diaper changes, fragments of sleep. And yet, I couldn\u2019t unhear that word. It began to gnaw at me. Every time she held him, I felt my chest constrict. Every time she called him \u201cours,\u201d even if followed by a quick correction\u2014\u201cyours, sorry\u201d\u2014it pierced me. I started watching her more closely. The way she stroked his hair longer than necessary. The way she whispered to him when she thought I wasn\u2019t listening.<\/span>
\n<\/span> Ryan told me I was being oversensitive. \u201cYou\u2019re exhausted, Em. You\u2019re hormonal. She\u2019s just trying to help.\u201d But I noticed how often he let her take over. How quickly he handed the baby to her when he cried, how he smiled when she soothed him faster than I could. I wanted to scream: He\u2019s my baby. Mine.<\/span><\/p>\n

One afternoon, I came into the living room to find her sprawled on the couch, my son sleeping on her chest. His tiny fist clutched the fabric of her shirt like she was his mother. She didn\u2019t even notice me at first, her eyes closed, her lips murmuring, \u201cOurs loves you. Ours always loves you.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> Something inside me snapped. \u201cGive him to me,\u201d I said. My voice was low, shaking. She startled awake, clutching him tighter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/span> \u201cOh\u2014he just fell asleep,\u201d she said quickly. \u201cIt\u2019s easier if I\u2014\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> \u201cNow,\u201d I cut her off. I reached out, my hands trembling, but she hesitated before finally, slowly, handing him over. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes followed every movement as I held him against my chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

That night I couldn\u2019t sleep. I lay awake listening to the creaks of the house, every sound magnified by paranoia. I finally slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, careful not to wake Ryan. I pushed open the nursery door just a crack. And there she was again, rocking him, whispering. Only this time, her voice was firmer, almost like a promise. \u201cMommy doesn\u2019t understand yet, but ours will always be together. Always.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> My breath caught. The air felt too thin. She wasn\u2019t saying \u201cours\u201d like a habit. She meant it.<\/span><\/p>\n

The next morning, I told Ryan we needed to let her go. His eyes widened. \u201cWhat? Emily, she\u2019s been incredible. You can finally sleep. You\u2019re not even healed yet.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> \u201cShe\u2019s calling him hers,\u201d I snapped. \u201cShe keeps saying he\u2019s ours. Like we share him. It\u2019s not normal.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. \u201cYou\u2019re spiraling. Please don\u2019t make this harder than it is.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> But I wasn\u2019t imagining it. I knew what I heard.<\/span><\/p>\n

Two nights later, I found proof. I was folding laundry when I noticed a small notebook half-hidden under the glider in the nursery. I picked it up. Inside were pages filled with neat, looping handwriting. At first, I thought it was just notes\u2014feeding schedules, sleep patterns. But then I turned the page.<\/span>
\n<\/span> \u201cMy sweet boy,\u201d it read. \u201cOur bond grows stronger every day. You know I\u2019m yours, and you\u2019re mine. She doesn\u2019t understand, but she will. She has to. One day, you\u2019ll know the truth\u2014we belong to each other.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the book. My stomach lurched. I wanted to vomit.<\/span><\/p>\n

I confronted her the next morning. She was buttoning up his tiny onesie when I stormed in, notebook in hand. \u201cWhat the hell is this?\u201d I demanded.<\/span>
\n<\/span> Her face drained of color. \u201cWhere did you\u2014\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> \u201cDon\u2019t play games with me,\u201d I snapped. \u201cWhat is this supposed to mean? \u2018Ours will always be together\u2019? You\u2019re writing to my son like he\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> Her eyes filled with tears, but her voice stayed calm, almost soothing. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand. We share him now. You\u2019re too tired, too overwhelmed. He needs both of us. That\u2019s why he smiles more with me, why he sleeps better with me. He knows.\u201d<\/span>
\n<\/span> \u201cHe\u2019s my child!\u201d I screamed. The sound startled even me. My son whimpered, sensing the tension. I pulled him into my arms, shielding him from her. \u201cYou are done here. Get out. Now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She begged. She cried. She clutched at the notebook, insisting it was innocent, just her way of journaling. But I saw the hunger in her eyes, the way she lingered on him even as she packed her things.<\/span>
\n<\/span> Ryan was furious with me at first. \u201cYou fired the only person who\u2019s been helping us!\u201d he shouted. But when I showed him the notebook, the color drained from his face too. He didn\u2019t argue after that.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s been weeks since she left, but I still hear her voice in my head sometimes when I rock him to sleep. Ours. The word makes my skin crawl now. I double-check the locks every night. I\u2019ve installed cameras. And when I hold my son, I whisper fiercely into his tiny ear, \u201cYou\u2019re mine. Only mine.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Final Thought<\/b>
\n<\/b> Exhaustion makes you vulnerable. Trust makes you blind. I thought I was letting someone help me, but instead, I let her blur the line between caretaker and mother. The day she called him \u201cours,\u201d I realized something chilling: not everyone who wants to hold your baby wants to give him back.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0The first time she said it, I thought I\u2019d misheard. My body was aching from labor, stitched and swollen, but I shuffled down the hallway when I heard the faint lull of a nursery rhyme. I stopped at the doorway. She was rocking him in her arms, humming softly, the glow of the nightlight catching the strands of her dark hair. And then I heard it\u2014clear as a bell. \u201cGo to sleep, little one. Ours loves you so much.\u201d Ours. My stomach tightened like a fist. We had hired her…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2842,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,3,5,10,4,15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2847","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog","category-entertainment","category-feature-post","category-featured","category-lifestyle","category-trend"],"gutentor_comment":0,"yoast_head":"\nThe Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep - Old Aged Humor<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep - Old Aged Humor\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"\u00a0The first time she said it, I thought I\u2019d misheard. My body was aching from labor, stitched and swollen, but I shuffled down the hallway when I heard the faint lull of a nursery rhyme. I stopped at the doorway. She was rocking him in her arms, humming softly, the glow of the nightlight catching the strands of her dark hair. And then I heard it\u2014clear as a bell. \u201cGo to sleep, little one. Ours loves you so much.\u201d Ours. My stomach tightened like a fist. We had hired her…\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Old Aged Humor\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2025-09-11T10:59:38+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/2-5.webp\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1024\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1536\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/webp\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Destiny Denver\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Destiny Denver\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"6 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Destiny Denver\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/bc7629c79dd98873477de0fb4a90d24d\"},\"headline\":\"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep\",\"datePublished\":\"2025-09-11T10:59:38+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847\"},\"wordCount\":1293,\"commentCount\":0,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/09\\\/2-5.webp\",\"articleSection\":[\"blog\",\"Entertainment\",\"Feature Post\",\"Featured\",\"Lifestyle\",\"trend\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"CommentAction\",\"name\":\"Comment\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#respond\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847\",\"name\":\"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep - Old Aged Humor\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/09\\\/2-5.webp\",\"datePublished\":\"2025-09-11T10:59:38+00:00\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/09\\\/2-5.webp\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/09\\\/2-5.webp\",\"width\":1024,\"height\":1536},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?p=2847#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/\",\"name\":\"Old Aged Humor\",\"description\":\"Proof That Age and Humor Only Get Better Together\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#organization\",\"name\":\"Old Aged Humor\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/logo\\\/image\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/08\\\/cropped-cropped-97da200e-7eb0-4389-9408-e3e79b35f1ab-2.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/08\\\/cropped-cropped-97da200e-7eb0-4389-9408-e3e79b35f1ab-2.png\",\"width\":290,\"height\":79,\"caption\":\"Old Aged Humor\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/logo\\\/image\\\/\"}},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/bc7629c79dd98873477de0fb4a90d24d\",\"name\":\"Destiny Denver\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/secure.gravatar.com\\\/avatar\\\/51bc23eedfdade3ea514a5cf7610b58910204d6b8e6d03f02622cae720112085?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/secure.gravatar.com\\\/avatar\\\/51bc23eedfdade3ea514a5cf7610b58910204d6b8e6d03f02622cae720112085?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/secure.gravatar.com\\\/avatar\\\/51bc23eedfdade3ea514a5cf7610b58910204d6b8e6d03f02622cae720112085?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Destiny Denver\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\"],\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/oldagedhumor.com\\\/?author=2\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep - Old Aged Humor","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep - Old Aged Humor","og_description":"\u00a0The first time she said it, I thought I\u2019d misheard. My body was aching from labor, stitched and swollen, but I shuffled down the hallway when I heard the faint lull of a nursery rhyme. I stopped at the doorway. She was rocking him in her arms, humming softly, the glow of the nightlight catching the strands of her dark hair. And then I heard it\u2014clear as a bell. \u201cGo to sleep, little one. Ours loves you so much.\u201d Ours. My stomach tightened like a fist. We had hired her…","og_url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847","og_site_name":"Old Aged Humor","article_published_time":"2025-09-11T10:59:38+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1024,"height":1536,"url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/2-5.webp","type":"image\/webp"}],"author":"Destiny Denver","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Destiny Denver","Est. reading time":"6 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"Article","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#article","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847"},"author":{"name":"Destiny Denver","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#\/schema\/person\/bc7629c79dd98873477de0fb4a90d24d"},"headline":"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep","datePublished":"2025-09-11T10:59:38+00:00","mainEntityOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847"},"wordCount":1293,"commentCount":0,"publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#organization"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/2-5.webp","articleSection":["blog","Entertainment","Feature Post","Featured","Lifestyle","trend"],"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"CommentAction","name":"Comment","target":["https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#respond"]}]},{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847","url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847","name":"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep - Old Aged Humor","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/2-5.webp","datePublished":"2025-09-11T10:59:38+00:00","breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/2-5.webp","contentUrl":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/2-5.webp","width":1024,"height":1536},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?p=2847#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"The Baby Nurse Called My Son \u201cOurs\u201d While Rocking Him to Sleep"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#website","url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/","name":"Old Aged Humor","description":"Proof That Age and Humor Only Get Better Together","publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#organization"},"potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#organization","name":"Old Aged Humor","url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/cropped-cropped-97da200e-7eb0-4389-9408-e3e79b35f1ab-2.png","contentUrl":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/cropped-cropped-97da200e-7eb0-4389-9408-e3e79b35f1ab-2.png","width":290,"height":79,"caption":"Old Aged Humor"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"}},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/#\/schema\/person\/bc7629c79dd98873477de0fb4a90d24d","name":"Destiny Denver","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/51bc23eedfdade3ea514a5cf7610b58910204d6b8e6d03f02622cae720112085?s=96&d=mm&r=g","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/51bc23eedfdade3ea514a5cf7610b58910204d6b8e6d03f02622cae720112085?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/51bc23eedfdade3ea514a5cf7610b58910204d6b8e6d03f02622cae720112085?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Destiny Denver"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/oldagedhumor.com"],"url":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/?author=2"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2847","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2847"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2847\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2848,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2847\/revisions\/2848"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2842"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2847"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2847"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/oldagedhumor.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2847"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}