Fun with the Fisheye Lens

Little did you know I gave birth to Wilford Brimley. During the day he stands in the doorway grumbling for those damn kids to get off his lawn. At night he squawks about heartburn. In reality, he is quiet. (Too quiet! says the hand-wringer inside of me.) He makes these little squeezy noises instead of cries, loves car rides and holding hands. (We haven't tried yet, but I am sure he also likes long walks on the beach.) Somewhere between slathering Zoey's butt with Desitin and discussing the merits of Captain Jack Sparrow with her (we both agree that he's an exceptionally goodlooking man), I forgot that it takes time to get to know your baby. To stop seeing character actors in his face and attributing a grumpy old man's words in his sighs. It's slow-going, but we have all the time in the world. In the meantime, he's in his La-Z-Boy Recliner right now (the one that vibrates and chirps lullabies), muttering something about what is with kids wearing their pants so damn low these days...