I read in the Times last week about moms who think that their babies are perfect — handsome and intelligent looking and whatever else — and then years later, look back at the baby pictures and realize how deluded they were. I laughed, inwardly, as I read the story, knowing perfectly well that so many mothers are deluded, but that I was not one of them. Simon had always been a perfect baby. Yes, he was a plump little cherub whose many many many baby pictures attest to his angelic nature and super-model baby capabilities.
And then we got our new computer, which allowed us to put all of our pictures in one place. We spent a couple of hours this weekend sorting through old baby pictures. And I laughed, outwardly this time, as I realized how deluded I was. I mean really. Simon was a cute baby, no doubt. We got comments everywhere we went from perfect strangers who had no financial stake in his future telling us he belonged on tv, that he looked like a baby in an ad, that he was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. But you would never guess it to look at some of these charming shots.
I nearly fell out of my chair when I saw some of these. I hardly recognized him. Best use of Mother’s Day ever.