Big A and I, we’re mean parents. We tease the kid (you figured that one out from the last post). But wait, it gets worse. We tease the baby.
Sudden loud noises freak Baby A out. Cute. Funny, actually. She’ll look startled, then the corners of her mouth dip down into a perfect curve, then her lower lip starts wobbling, and then she’ll cry. At this point, we’ll usually scoop her up into our arms and make her smile again, but that lower-lip-downcurl is precious. And rare, since our girl is a usually a tough cookie.
Here’s the really bad thing. Sometimes we yell something: “OMG!” or “The New Yorker!” just to startle her. (And see that lower lip do that thing). We do this sparingly. So far may be a couple of times. (OK, like 16 times).
The number of times I’ve single-handedly instigated Big A into startling the baby is roughly half. But I know I’m the one going to hell for this. Big A won’t because he saves lives and all and God will be all: Aw, he’s such a good person despite everything; heaven. But me with my books-food-fabric-music-artifact-pleasure loving, self-centered life? H-E-double the toothpicks.
That picture of yourself in academic drag you took when people were consistently mistaking you for an undergraduate (because genes, but a...