Mommy was reading something on her iPhone in the car one time which basically said that babies smile 300 times a day, and adults only smile 10 times a day.
If that doesn’t make you pause, think about life, and consider that maybe as adults we’re doing it wrong, I’m not sure what will.
The best thing about baby smiles is that they’re not the sad, forced expressions you generally get from your waiter or the girl behind the counter at The GAP. They are pure, simple and thankfully there is not much to consider with them: the kid is happy. Whether it’s because they have figured out that when you wave the bottle at them they’re about to get fed, they think that your dancing is funny (while Mommy finds my dancing funny, it really is more of a embarrassed-for-me, oh-my-God-you’re-retarded kind of way), or they’re just happy to see you.
A friend of mine once told me that we’re all trying to be the person our dog thinks we are. I’ll modify that slightly to say that now I’m just trying to be as awesome as my daughter thinks I am. Not an easy task as she gets older (not only trying to be that awesome, but maintaining some level of awesomeness in her eyes once she hits that teenager phase). But I’ve always been a glutton for punishment.
The most surprising part for me has been exactly how happy someone that makes this much noise and leaks as many fluids as this kid does, can make me.
I had never really considered having kids (except under pressure from various grandparents who expected someone to carry on the family name). In fact, given my record with plants, I was pretty sure kids were out of the question. And quite frankly, my professional and social life at the time Mommy and I found out about our little munchkin to be, were not exactly geared towards the endeavor. They weren’t even close.
To be fair, given what you go through when you have a kid, I’m not sure there is ever a convenient time to have them.
Now, given all of the above, I want to assure anyone reading this, I cannot imagine not having Baby Girl in my life. The thought of not having Baby Girl in my life on a daily basis has brought me to tears once or twice. Yes, I Daddy, previously the cynical, outlaw type with nary a care for the future and a pretty laissez faire attitude towards the future, a fairly anti-social bent, and commitment problems, was brought to tears by the thought of not being inextricably tied to someone who cries loudly, needs me to dispose of her body’s waste byproducts, and has completely ruined my plans to start a band, tour the world and engage in the types of things you don’t mention in a baby-oriented blog.
And I couldn’t be happier with that.
It really doesn’t make sense. But every time I look down at her in my arms, I melt like a snowball in an oven. When she smiles I forget that the world is filled with loads of stupid people, lying politicians, vapid celebutantes, evil scumbags and bad drivers. All I can think about is how much I love this girl and how much I want to keep her smiling, even if I have to dance like a drunken bachelorette, five shots of Jagermeister past the dignity threshold.
I have found myself doing incomprehensible things to coax a smile from this kid. I have stood in line in a crowded Starbucks babbling like a half-wit, using a baby talk voice at what was probably a louder than necessary voice for the smallest hint of smile. I’ve made googly eyes, stuck my tongue out and made noises that no dignified man would ever make, in the hope of seeing her crooked little grin light her face up.
What’s more, even though I’ve sacrificed public decorum for the most fleeting of smiles, I could really care less what those people in their business suits and outrageously expensive track suits are thinking as I abandon any pretense of public social respectability in the pursuit of a baby’s smile. Being tied down to a baby has been oddly freeing. I guess that comes from the realization that I would trade the lot of them to Al Qaeda if it meant that Baby Girl would giggle for me.
I suppose this ought to worry me, as it means that I will probably be willing to call in a bomb threat to the local Toys ‘R Us if it means I can keep the rest of the Christmas crowd away long enough for me to lay hands on the last Tickle Me Elmo (or whatever it is next year) for Baby Girl. I have already told Mommy that if Baby Girl requests a unicorn at any point, I will buy a mini-horse and have a horn surgically implanted in its head to satisfy her demands.
Mommy has said that I am wrapped around her finger and that my little princess will be spoiled beyond belief. I suppose she’s right. And I never saw it coming.
No comments:
Post a Comment