The difficult times come, absolutely. There can be a 60 minute crying, inconsolable jag that leaves us feeling helpless and irritable. But man, are those times forgotten quickly as soon as he's back to his baseline level of awesome.
He's fascinating, ever-developing, snuggly, sweet, and curious. What an incredibly healthy person to be around. Several times in recent weeks he has served as a perspective renewer for me in times of stress. The docs call it "cognitive restructuring." How can I possibly worry about insignificant neuroses while hanging out with him?
Nature does not arm you with a smile. Not for the first 6-10 weeks anyway. Evolution has decided that infants don't need to express joy in order to achieve their survival demands.
Rubin did not have happiness in his arsenal. He had disdain, fear, discomfort, side-eyed doubt, anger, distress, and myriad other variations on trouble...but no joy. He had contentment, and a hilarious food coma that seemed like drunkenness, but no charm.
I couldn't stop thinking about how we best elicit activity and involvement from those around us. I've always been a pretty happy person, and have lived by the mantra that Fun Is King. If you have fun, in any professional or social endeavor, people will work harder with you and the product will be better. So that smile, that charm...elemental to my being. I have often willed myself to smile, knowing that others would probably smile back and help me actually get to the happy place if need be.
I guess nature figures you're going to give that infant what he needs, in hopes of avoiding the aforementioned variations on trouble. I mean, we love him and feel beholden after all.
But that smile, when it comes. Wow.
He makes us work for it...mirroring our faces. But they're coming easier and easier.
And now they've been joined by giggles.
They melt me.
I live to make him giggle....just want to come home and make him as happy as his little body will allow. Someday I'll want to make him laugh until he pees.
Another recent development, an addition to the magic act of "THE GREAT RUBINO" is his ability to hold stuff. It began with a simple little blue ring (far right), and that was a trick worth savoring.
He had something of his own! Mine! Then he wouldn't want it...would throw it away. Then hold it again! Thus began a lifelong relationship with material possessions.
He has learned how to wear hats.
This one shows him either ready for big pimping on Miami Beach, or perhaps lunch at the Bada Bing.
He is a flirty little man sometimes.
Tonya says this is the onesie he wears to go out macking on the ladies.
"Hey baby...I have some great Japanese import CD's back at my place."
"You know, I loved the Dap Kings more when they were backing up Amy Winehouse."
A chilly morning in May meant we had a final chance to break out the Bear Suit for a family walk.
Note the pads on the feet...you know, for those walks across the forest floor.
On our walk, ten unfortunate citizens died of cuteness. They will be missed.
He's the most interesting person we know.
Can't wait to hang out with him for another 40 or 50 years.