I am goofy. It is true. Every time I pick up my phone and see this picture, I turn it towards my husband and say, “Look! Cutest little baby in the whole wide world!” And he always agrees, because he is The Best Man.
I find writing very therapeutic. Getting thoughts out there helps me sort things out, solve the problems of the world, and unleash my creative spirit.
Writing about things that are perfect, however, is extraordinarily hard for me. Take sunsets. They are all different, all beautiful, and all perfect in their own way. I have no desire, nor real ability, to describe sunsets. Look! Sunset! Perfect again. Enjoy.
So it is with my new granddaughter. She is perfect. End of story.
So here it is, almost four months since she was born, and I have written exactly nothing. I feel that somehow that is wrong, given her importance in my life.
Yet every time I try, I am rendered speechless.
So I tried to analyze that feeling. Babies. There they are, perfect. And you love them completely. Oh! Look at you! You are absolutely wonderful. Hi, baby!
And then it dawned on me. Even now, 30 years later, it is more likely than not that I will greet my daughter by saying, “Hi, Baby!” She has always been my baby. I never stopped calling her that.
Because to this day, the way I feel about her has not changed. And now that same feeling extends to my granddaughter. They are both beautiful and perfect, each her own unique way.
But seriously, objectively, isn’t this the cutest little baby in the whole wide world?