Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I sit by three young fathers at work. They got in a pretty hilarious beautiful baby competition the other night. (That's how accountants get wild working long hours.) Each man very earnestly brought their best baby pictures for me to judge, and I very earnestly avoided making any real judgements. They really were all cuties, but there was a clear winner. He was a heartbreaker. Beautiful dark eyes, sweet face and juicy, chubby cheeks. The event got me thinking about how I never think of my babies. I used to. But I can't see or imagine babies. Only kids. Well, no, I do sometimes think of abstract babies who are not very cute and bawl and spit up continuously and grow into mutant looking children with mediocre personalities, who I will love anyway. I told H about my thoughts. His response "What if we have a beautiful baby, with a really great personality?" We drove in silence for a few seconds while we both pictured that one. "It is less painful to imagine a maggot-baby," I said. "Yes", H agreed. We drove on in silence, probably thinking of traffic.