Today, Baby Boy had his 6 months-old picture taken (at 7 months . . . I am always running late). He was such a handsome little man! They even called him Superman! Without any encouragement from me! This made me happy, for reasons previously provided.
He was so handsome! Who made that baby?!? (Okay, God made all things — but who did God make to make that Baby — yeah, that’s right: ME! I was the secondary means! Ain’t bad for a sinner, huh?). I anticipate modeling agencies contacting me shortly wanting to discuss his career. He has such a . . . Euro-nique look — just like his Daddy (who also received certain proposals for the aforesaid vocation). My men are SOOOOO CUTE!!!
In any event, he was precious, and Sissy even jumped in occasionally — but only when she was not expected. As soon as she was invited to get into the pic, she would oh-so politely say “Um . . . no tanks.” She is quite a little lady, but a little reserved, to say the least. I had to use a little trickeration to get her into the pic. For example, I asked her to fix Baby Boy’s hair. She gladly agreed and quickly and cheerfully went to Baby Boy, gently and lovingly stroked his light, fine hair with her petite hand, and then just as quickly, returned to her little seat by me. She has such a demure, solemn look and demeanor . . . it is truly striking. Absolutely beautiful.
Funny enough, they are both afraid of the same woman. She tries to be real friendly to them, to please them, to make them laugh, etc. But Sissy, at this age, recoils in fear as if encountering something evil and runs towards me. And Baby Boy’s little bottom lip just quivers and begins to swell into this huge protruding mass atop his chin, his eyes turn bright pink as the tears well up on the verge of rolling down his plump red cheeks, and he starts turning his head frantically looking for his mama. It’s just so sad! And so precious! And makes me so happy!