My little ginger-nut has been with us for three months, which menas we are now deeply in the midst of the traditional set of debates:
1. who does he look like? (the hair skews this answer to the part of the family which has red-heads)
2. what kind of kid is he?
The answer to this depends, as always, on whom you ask. Is he a happy child? A serious child? Well, depends on the time of day, I'd say. But it also depends on the person. Our baby has a set of worried, serious expressions, and it is with these that he greets any new face or experience. As the person from whom he copied their expressions, I can hardly argue with his choices, but he adds to this cautious approach one, indecipherable formula: favoritism.
For some, our kid is briefly serious and then a happy, giggling, gurgling and dimpled little wonder. He'll chat with you, should you imitate his coos and grunts at him, and laugh at jokes known only to himself. For others, he is a suspicious and deeply worried infant, with nary a darling dimple in sight. A friend who is firmly in the former camp theorizes that the kid just prefers women to men, with a crucial exception being made for his brother, who is clearly his baby's favorite person.
I only wish the kid were so diplomatic. Were he able to delight and win over his grandmothers, his aunties and assorted female relatives, I could rely on any number of hands to hold him at family gathering - guaranteeing, mind you, our enthusiastic presence at any flimsy excuse for such events. But people are far more reluctant to hold a baby who doesn't charm their pants off, and ours seems rather selective.
Fair enough - so long as I stay on his good side, that is. Of course, I have a pair of not-so-secret weapons in my arsenal... (Note to self: delay weaning.)