[chuckle]

I’ve spent a substantial amount of time with a great number of babies in my lifetime (to this point I can think of almost three) and I’d like to think that I am being as impartial as I can (given the circumstances) when I say that our little turkey is the happiest baby on the planet. Sorry to the other billion babies out there, but the judges didn’t have enough time to adequately evaluate each and every contestant. I hate to be that parent who thinks that their kid is just so much better than yours (which, oddly enough was true when my own parents thought it), and I don’t think that’s the situation we’re dealing with here. I’m sure you all have very happy babies. I mean, what baby isn’t happy (seriously – abuse and crack-addictions aside)? But I know, way back in the rear of my cavernous, hollow skull, that I have never come across another baby who giggles so frequently. If there are forty consecutive seconds throughout the course of Ben’s existence where he doesn’t crack a smile, chuckle to himself, squeak, or bury his smile-strained face in his mother’s shoulder because the stimulation is just too awful to handle on his own, I’d be mighty surprised. Forty seconds. Seriously, I’ve timed him. You don’t believe me? Just stand next to him expressionless, wait for his attention to divert your way and observe him pause, staring you right in the eye, impassively anticipating your next move, then just when he decides you’re not going to give him anything to work with he deliberately flashes you that crooked smile from the right side of his mouth, the gallery erupts, the world is at peace, and when you look down to examine your own self you find a broadened grin stretching from ear-to-ear which amazes you because it’s the seventeenth time he’s done that to you this morning. Whereas normally we spend endless hours prodding our babies to laugh with us, our Ben works hard to make US smile.

Or maybe it’s all in my predisposed cranium. Either way, it’s a lot of fun.

My (now well-rested) wife has made clear her only aspiration for Ben’s future self: that he is compassionate, thoughtful and considerate for those around him. Seems to me he is well on his way.

Thanks again, Big Guy. . .

purple people-eater

Quick: what has two teeth, no hair, jelly-rolls, a grin as big as a house and drools profusely?

I’ll give you one hint, he weighs over 21 pounds, he’s never resisted a single fruit or vegetable (although recently, due to what we think may be an allergic reaction, he might enjoy the great fortune of never having to eat zucchini again), he cries during dinner because you’re just not feeding him fast enough, and then cries again after dinner because you stopped feeding him even though he’s finished the whole bowl of cereal, the whole jar of mixed vegetables, the whole container of baby-yogurt, a half bottle of formula, a half container of baby-crackers, a side of soup or salad, a loaf of bread, the spoon, your fingers and the left side of the refrigerator (Sometimes I wonder why I'm the one who’s gaining all the weight in this family when I clearly spend less time feeding than either of my housemates).

If you still can’t guess who I'm talking about, go home and get some sleep because, like my wife, you really need it. I love you honey, and you know I still love you while you’re walking around the house bumping into things and talking to the paint on the walls, but why don't you let me take Ben for a bit while you go chase some sheep?

PS: All those wonerful souls who post replies to my entries from now on will recieve a gift package in the mail worth over 100 dollars! And I promise it won't contain twice-used baby clothes that The Ben has quickly grown out of. . .