Babies aren’t exactly the scary foreign entities they used to be once upon a time. I’ve had quite a bit of time to acclimate myself to them and their fluids – after all, I’m a thrice-times nuncle now, so I’ve had quite a bit of experience with the little ones. I draw the line at diapers, but I’m finally not afraid to hold a baby.
And that’s where things start to change. My little brother, who looks almost exactly like me despite being two years younger, brought his little bouncing goblin up for Christmastime. The baby (who I like to call Bacon) fussed quite a bit – as babies do. Bacon got passed around from relative to relative, but none of them could get him to stop crying. Surprisingly, he seemed to calm down when I held him, and I even got him to smile that toothless baby smile.
We think it’s a simple case of mistaken identity – my brother studies math at BYU, so he generally has to keep his face clean-shaven. Over the summer break, just after Bacon was born, he stayed home and played daddy while his wife went to work, and he let his beard grow out. I, who have never had to kowtow to ridiculous anti-shaving prejudice, was fully bearded during the Yuletide season, so something about my voluptuously virile visage soothed the savage sniffler.
Still, the kid freakin’ loves me, and that is awesome.
2 comments:
nice alliteration.
Thanks! I was proud of it.
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