We have an almost brand-new grandchild; a girl, engineered by Elliza and Daniel. We have just returned from Portland, Oregon, where we were summoned for a First Viewing.
Her name is Elliot Chen Hubbard, and she is, quite obviously, the best new thing to happen in 2015. She joins an impressive number of other grandchildren whom, as Garrison Kiellor might modestly have said, "are all above average".
She is a teeny little tad, born six pounds-something, coming early and, if not reluctantly, then with difficulty, into the world. But Elliza might have to tell you about that: I was not there.
As you can see, both Elliza and Elliot are doing quite well, thank you. Daniel, on the other hand, is clearly showing signs of the stress of childbirth. He has managed, by working extra shifts in advance, to be able to spend time at home with his daughter and wife, and will be able to do so for a significant time. It is not that he has adjusted perfectly to his familial role. It has affected his mind, as many of you might have predicted, and already know. For instance, probably just to cement the satisfaction of knowing that his genes are perpetuated, he contrived to highlight the way in which Elliot looks like him, even almost immediately at birth. Since he wears glasses, he cut out a pair of glasses for Elliot, to demonstrate his hypothesis.
Who can gainsay that?
Elliot is unimpressed.
Elliza is charitably silent.
The dog--Is that the black dog or the other black dog?--hopes that it is just a phase. The stuffed animals probably do not have opinions, but who knows? What can they do?
Whilst I am privately concerned at this irrefutable evidence that Daniel has learned the multiplication tables, but might have gotten all the right numbers in the wrong place, it did not seem to me that it was my place to suggest he go back to work.
Elliot is just fine! She supplies polite, incremental evidence that she is getting hungry, obvious grunts and groans and smiles that demonstrate that she knows how to process what she has eaten, sleeps whenever she wants to, and actually looks a lot like me, I think, which is causing the whole biological enterprise some consternation and distress.
I don't care. I know a grand-daughter when I see one!
Her name is Elliot Chen Hubbard, and she is, quite obviously, the best new thing to happen in 2015. She joins an impressive number of other grandchildren whom, as Garrison Kiellor might modestly have said, "are all above average".
She is a teeny little tad, born six pounds-something, coming early and, if not reluctantly, then with difficulty, into the world. But Elliza might have to tell you about that: I was not there.
Elliot is unimpressed.
Elliza is charitably silent.
The dog--Is that the black dog or the other black dog?--hopes that it is just a phase. The stuffed animals probably do not have opinions, but who knows? What can they do?
Whilst I am privately concerned at this irrefutable evidence that Daniel has learned the multiplication tables, but might have gotten all the right numbers in the wrong place, it did not seem to me that it was my place to suggest he go back to work.
Elliot is just fine! She supplies polite, incremental evidence that she is getting hungry, obvious grunts and groans and smiles that demonstrate that she knows how to process what she has eaten, sleeps whenever she wants to, and actually looks a lot like me, I think, which is causing the whole biological enterprise some consternation and distress.
I don't care. I know a grand-daughter when I see one!
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