Be Kind, Laugh Often
I’ve always had a rich inner life. Post-baby, this inner life has been noticing small things in daily tasks “that are HILARIOUS,” to which my pre-baby brain, which had more credible discretion, questions. So here are a few in list form because some may or may not be worthy of expansion.
As if being a baby isn’t challenging enough, some toy maker went and made a series of bears dressed as other animals. Friends and family have given us some as gifts. People are going to wonder why my kid tries to lift the fur off all the animals at the petting zoo birthday parties, stating “I’m just making sure they’re all bears underneath.”
After watching comedians’ Netflix specials I sometimes hear their voices in my head a few days afterwards commenting on the world in their tone and style. This happened after Tig Notaro’s special “Happy To Be Here.” I noticed a building going up. All they had so far were steel beams. And they were rusted. And in Tig’s voice I heard “So. Really? They’re just going to set it up for failure from the start?” I know. Not that funny. That’s why I feel an intense urge to contact her and gift her with this so SHE can make it funny.
In Chicago there are these tiny corner places I call “i ran out of time to get real food so I’m at this place.” That’s all. I didn’t get much further with that one.
Recently I took my baby on a plane by myself. Where do people learn to “acknowledge the baby and say just enough but not too much so they don’t have to engage for the whole flight”? This is a skill on par with passing the bar exams or convincingly renting Father of The Bride for "someone else" for the 6th time in a row. I absolutely don’t have this skill. I either have to ignore the baby completely or make “eyes” and entertain her the whole flight. There was a girl across the aisle from Solly reading Girl on Train. She’d read and go in and out of interactions with him seamlessly throughout the flight - not ignoring Solly and not feeling guilt to engage the entire time. Well done! Maybe the key is having a book open...
The other day I was driving and thinking of all the things my son might become. The only one that he’s not allowed to be is an asshole. Have one, yes. Be one, no. As a teacher, I know not to educate in the negative. You don’t tell Susy NOT to swear, you tell her to SAY richer words. So I won’t tell Solly not to be an asshole. I’ll inform him that he must be kind and have a sense of humor. Those are my only two non-negotiables (I’ll probably throw in working hard at some point). People LOVE to guess a baby’s age. I get it. By necessity I spent 5 summers recruiting 5th graders for our middle school in South LA and got exceptionally good at identifying and approaching 10 year olds. I now do it for fun (sans the approach part) when I see any aged kid walk by. I’m always right. And it feels good to be right. So when people guess Solly’s age, which seems to be every time we’re in public, we agree. With it all. “6 weeks?” Yes. “3 months?” Yes. “2 Weeks?” Yes. And then I’ve taught Solly to look at me and do a side eye smile when we walk away - introducing him to the humor of an inside joke. Just between us. By showing kindness by allowing others to assign any age to Solly, we are handing out little bursts of joy which could change the world. Maybe. Or at least make the next interaction these people have with someone a little nicer.
"He's 4 months?" ... Yes!. (not really he's only 3)