Elijah is a handsome baby. I think we can all agree on that fact. But, he really doesn’t look like either Diana or me. In fact, when Di took him to the doctor the other day, the nurse said, “Ohh, he’s so handsome. He looks nothing like you…”
So occasionally, there is the slightest pang of “Did the hospital mess up and send us home with someone else’s baby?” I mostly think this when he’s having a fit.
But last night at o-dark-o’clock, I was changing him when I noticed his little shirt wouldn’t fit over his belly. I had to fight back tears because I knew without a doubt that he is my boy: he has the Hamann Belly.
We Hamanns are a proud people. Devastatingly handsome. Brilliant. Maybe a bit neurotic. But what defines us is our bellies. None of us are fat. We all just happen to have round bellies. Most notably Al Hamann, my dad’s dad, who had the most famous Hamann belly. Round, proud, German. People used to drive from miles around to see it. Lutherans would rub it for good luck. The rest of us Hamanns carry on the tradition to various degrees depending on how many beers are in the fridge.
Welcome to the family, Eli.
2 comments:
Buddha was a Hamann.
For us older Hamanns' the best belly would go to Albert's Father Rudolph. He worked on our distictive family profile with rigorus workouts at the neighborhood belly gym known as Mike's Tavern where he drank beer and played pinocle almost daily for over 60 years. He lived to 79.
Uncle Dick
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