First Smile

Yesterday, my new boy must have had a stomach ache. He was crying with an intensity that is a rare find in humans over the age of three. In fact the last time I saw someone sobbing so uncontrollably, it was myself upon finding out that MTV was canceling Beavis and Butthead. In order to soothe him, I picked him up, rocked him gently and quietly sang him a couple of tunes from my large repertoire of Irish drinking songs. I was just getting into “The Night That Patty Murphy Died” when he finally quieted down and closed his eyes. His lips then parted into what I believed to be was his very first smile. It was a big one, stretching from ear to ear and his whole body seemed to have been put into it. His arms stretched out long and his legs stiffened rigidly. I thought it was a sure sign of contentment until his diaper started vibrating and he unleashed a long and loud blast of posterior gas that would have been more at home in an interstate truck stop in the immediate aftermath of a wildly successful burrito extravaganza. I was amazed that something so offensively obnoxious could be unleashed by something so tiny and helpless.

Of course Carson then erupted into a fresh fit of hysterics, having woken himself up. I could not blame him though. For such a little guy to have passed something so momentous could not have brought much of a feeling of relief. My bet is that he probably felt more violated than anything else.