My son is gorgeous. Not to brag, but everyone wants to know when his Gerber contract is coming through. His smile is broad and happy. His eyes a deep blue twinkle, framed with long dark lashes. He has a full head of dirty blonde hair, which looks real cute in a faux Mohawk. And his cheeks are full, fat and a little droopy.
My son is calm, easy going, and well behaved. He only cries when he’s hungry, or hurt, or tired. When he’s teething he’s a bit kvetchy, but even then. He’s happy go lucky, pleasing, plays nicely by himself, and lets me breathe. He also sleeps through the night and wakes up about 8:30 in the morning. He rarely gets sick, and seems to have a solid immune system.
My son is a bit advanced. He was sitting by 4 months, crawling by 6. He’s standing on his own for a few seconds at a time these days, and is of course cruising. He has 2 teeth, and says Ma-ma. He has a pretty decent pincer grip for his age. He has great problem solving navigational skills, and is quite the explorer.
People ask what I did to deserve such a gorgeous, genius, good child. I don’t look at it that way.
Hashem only gives a person what he can handle. I can only handle perfection apparently. That’s not too good.