I just spoke with a friend who was expounding on the fine qualities of my son, for which I was very grateful. When you are 40 and pregnant and have a lot of questionable memories of adolescence, you can worry about a lot of things: will the kid be healthy? Will s/he be happy? Will s/he be able to fend for her/himself in a cruel world? What have I learned from being the butt of jokes, the last one picked for kickball, from having to invent a world of my own to live in because I was’nt welcome in any of the ones that were already there? Can I teach my kid how to make the most—and more—of the hand you’re dealt?
What I never expected was that I would have a chronically happy, beautiful blue eyed baby boy who, at 7 months, is the most popular kid in town.
I have no advice for you, my son. You’re on your own.