Saturday, January 19, 2008


The other week, Diana was doing the Elijah hand off to Marianna and they were contemplating his cuteness.

“Oh, he gorgeous,” Marianna said.
“Don’t I know it,” Di said.
“Oh yes. He spoiled.”

Huh? Come again? Spoiled? Di was taken aback. Spoiled? But…but…our baby can’t be spoiled. Spoiled kids are rich kids who drive red convertibles and have the last name “Kennedy.” Not our son.

But then we started thinking. Eli has been in a phase where he does not like to be anywhere but in our arms. If you put him down, he shrieks with anger. And, if we have the choice between cute babbling baby and baby who makes a noise that causes Grover to mash the phone buttons in an attempt to call a cab, we choose the happy baby.

But now I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want a spoiled baby. I want a cool baby. Wait a second. Don’t we have about a thousand baby books scattered through the house? Hold on a minute. I’m going to dust one off.

I’m back.

The baby book says that you cannot spoil a child under the age of one year. That when he cries we should tend to his needs.

Take that! I’m going to go give him a pony.

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