People keep asking me if Hutch is a good baby.
I don’t really like that question. It reminds me of the Barenaked Ladies song “What a Good Boy,” [which by the way is one of the greatest songs ever written, if you ask me, which you kind of did since you are reading my blog]…
When I was born they looked at me and said, What a Good Boy, What a Smart Boy, What a Strong Boy […] We’ve got these chains hangin’ around our necks; people wanna strangle us with them before we take our first breath…
I don’t like the idea of labelling my son as “good” or “bad” or anything relative like that. If I call him good it might be too much pressure for him, and if I call him bad that’s just mean. I prefer to state the facts and let people come to their own conclusions.
The facts are these:
• Hutch rarely cries unless he needs something, which thing is almost always very apparent, and which we can usually (knock on wood) address to his satisfaction within a matter of minutes.
• Hutch doesn’t smile often. But when he does it looks like this:
• I am addicted to that face.
• I mean, how could I not be? Just look at it:
• Despite the above facts, Hutch does sometimes have hard days. Those times look like this:
• And this:
• But more often than anything else our baby is neither very happy nor very sad, but instead just incredibly chill (and okay, maybe just a TEENSY bit suspicious of every living soul he comes in contact with):
And those, my friends, are the many faces of Hutchy Boy. The Hutchface.
Is he a good baby? Is he a bad baby? I don’t know.
But he’s our baby, and we love him to bits.
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