I hope my baby is cute.
About a month before Champ was born, my friend posted a picture of her brand new baby nephew. He was the cutest newborn I’ve ever seen in my life, with a head full of dark hair. I remember being on the verge of tears because I was certain that our baby wouldn’t be as cute. Sure, he’d be cute, but I figured he would follow the family norms and be born completely bald with a round head, looking very much like a baby Winston Churchill.
But then Champ was born, and the only thing I remember from seeing him the first time was not a rush of philosophical thoughts on motherhood, but rather, “Where on earth did all that hair come from?”
Now, I might be biased, but my firstborn was (and is) pretty darned adorable. And while I do like babies, and there is something very, very special about seeing a newborn, I’m not in that camp that thinks all babies are adorable.
I’m more like Bill Cosby.
I met a baby a while ago that I liked very much, whom I liked holding and I thought was a very sweet life. But the whole time, I couldn’t help noticing a resemblance to Anakin Skywalker in episode 6…
I admit it’s superficial for me to want a baby that looks less like a burn victim and more like a miniature Frank Sinatra.
Maybe Baby Lion won’t be as cute as Champ was. If he isn’t, I’m sure I’ll keep it to myself. (And everybody else had better keep it to themselves, if they don’t want their faces rearranged.) It certainly won’t keep me from loving him just as much as as I love our first!
Besides, if the kids get any genes from me, I know they are going to be in for it when they become about 8 or 9 years old, and won’t grow out of the awkward phase for about twelve years.
At least it will make dating easier for us parents. Because if my boys continue getting cuter, we won’t have to worry about a Zombie apocalypse. We’ll be living in a bunker trying to keep all the girls at bay.