(For some reason, it just occurred to me that, in most Latin-derived languages, the title of this post would be "Uglies Babies". I don't, however, know what to do with that information.)

Yesterday, Ethel made us go see the ugly baby.

                      

This is not, admittedly, a very good picture (I took it yesterday, with my cell phone)  but you should be thankful about that - the better the picture, the uglier the baby would look.

And this is the look that Jackson usually has on his face - a :"well, there's the world out there. I don't think that I like it. It doesn't really suit me."  Sort of like a cross between Shrek and Eyore. In this particular pose, it's obvous that Jackson doesn't have much in the way of gumption - he seems to be expressing "gee, my arms are too heavy for me to lift them. Might as well just hunker down here". He kind of looks like a frog who's lost his jump.

And he's got those Will Smith ears - those are a caution, and no mistake.

They made me feed him, too, and hold him until he fell asleep - and then keep holding him until he woke up yelling (N.B. - if the baby cries while I'm holding him, then I "made him cry". If the baby cries while Ethel is holding him, then he must have an earache). Every once in a while, he smiles, and then all activity stops while everybody runs over to see if he'll smile again.

We just saw the ugly baby a week ago - you'd think that we'd get more time off. But no - not only do we have to go see the ugly baby every weekend, we actually have to drive all the way to Phoenix to see him (This is because Ethel telecommutes, so on the weekends, she's dying to get out of the house. Well, sure, okay - so, do we go climbing? No, no, no - no! Do we go sailing? No, no, no - no! Do we go skiing? No, no, no - no! Ugly baby? Yeah, yeah, yeah - yeah!)

I think that I'm going to start coming down with colds and stomach viruses on the weekend - something communicable, you understand, so that I won't be allowed around the ugly baby. Then Ethel and Silas will drive off to see the ugly baby, and I'll have to stay home, with my guitar, and my banjo, and my 65" movie-watching device and 1000 DVDs. In fact, I do feel something coming over me now - the Haitian flu, or Lithuanian nasal drip, or maybe the Madagascan galloping never-get-overs  - it'll probably reach its peak on Saturday morning, right after my long run.

Anything - ANYTHING AT ALL - to keep me from having to see that ugly baby this weekend : )