Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Little Teddy is two months old and takes out the title of Mellowest Baby in The Universe. Will his life always be shadowed by his firecracker of a big sister? I think so - in the best possible way, I hope.
Teddy is so good-tempered, quiet and calm that it brings a tear to my eye just thinking of his sweet nature. (Of course, that could be hormones.) Today, for example: Ivy; jumping madly in circles around him as he lay on the rug, missed a step and sat down heavily on his belly. Keith and I both jumped in panic, Ivy burst into tears, and needed comforting, and Teddy gazed serenely at us all and smiled.
We call him Beaker, because he spends a lot of time peering around curiously, enormous blue eyes peeping over his big nose. That's when he's not intently inspecting his own hands; admiring and turning them in wonder like an acid casualty. He smiles, giggles, practices his kicking and occasionally lets out sudden loud yelps: 'Glerp!' he'll shout from the corner. 'What was that?' Keith and I will gasp, looking up from our attempts to remove Vegemite from Ivy's ears, or Ivy's leg from the Vegemite jar or the Vegemite jar from the toilet... and then we remember that we have another child lying quietly in the corner.
He really is one of those mythical babies that doesn't cry. I had heard of such wondrous animals but never dreamed that we would bear one. I am amazed by his equanimity, and sure that with his mellow vibe and his blonde hair, he's our little stompie wompie surfer boy. Train him up on the guitar and he can be Coledale's answer to Jack Johnson. And then I'll give Ivy some scarves and she can burn off all that dramatic energy doing interpretive dances to Teddy's soulful folk numbers. They'll never pay off their mortgage but man, will we have some entertaining Christmas parties.
Of course, he might turn out to be a dentist, and Ivy an accountant, and they'll break their mothers heart.