Today is Miles’ birthday. He’s 0 years old.

A personal note.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Congratulations to my amazing, my favorite daughter – I have just the one, but I’m nonetheless crazy about her. (You too, Son.) – and her wonderful husband. No simple explanation mark at the end of that first sentence can do the love, respect, the hopes and dreams I have for them justice. An already very clever, highly creative person, as I noted in a post 9 months ago, she has now successfully completed her most ambitious arts and crafts project to date, the making of a human being. Very well done. Now comes the hard part.

Yes, today, at 8:04 AM ET, my grandson, Miles, all 7lbs 10oz of him, gave up the security of my daughter’s womb to dive head first, literally, into the tough, relentlessly anxious, generally wonderful world of the “air-breathers,” aka you and me. He is now among us, and life, for not just my daughter and son-in-law, but for everyone Miles touches will never be the same.

(Have you ever noticed how we always give the weight of newborns when we introduce them? Maybe I should add my weight to the “About” tab of my blog. ..Maybe not.)

Despite Miles’ tumultuous transition – which culminated in his having been born only a scant 14 minutes after my daughter and son-in-law arrived at the hospital, Miles seems very cool about it all. Very poised, very collected. This bodes well for the future of civilization in which I am certain Miles will be a major player.

For the better part of 8 hours today, I hung out with the three of them, Miles and his parents, plus my wife and Miles’ other two grandparents watching him sleep and occasionally open his eyes and smile at us. I’m told he’s not really smiling, but probably has gas to which I reply, “Get lost. I know a smile when I seen one.”

By the way, did you know that “Miles” is an anagram for “smile”? I told you my daughter was clever, didn’t I? Madison Avenue’s best couldn’t have picked a better name for this kid if they had made it up from scratch.

The highlight of the day, other that just plain seeing Miles and my daughter – proof positive of how beautiful a woman can look without makeup – was watching my son-in-law change his son’s second diaper, a courageous act if ever there was one. It wasn’t easy and the results were a tad imperfect, but with encouragement from his wife and Miles’ grandparents, and under the supervision of one very experienced nurse, he got the job done. Good work. Between you and me, I’ve seen fewer people change all four tires and fuel-up their team car in less time, but then that’s NASCAR, a walk in the park compared to cleaning up what Miles did in his pants. Miles is staying on the 11th floor of the hospital. Even so, I’m fairly certain several pedestrians passed out on the sidewalk below during this particular pit stop.

And so tomorrow, Miles takes on day 2 of his life. With the same fearless verve and courage that will characterize his long and wondrous life, he’ll try to make sense out of everything, from how his part parts work to those noises everyone around him keeps making from their mouths. Go Miles! You can do this. How do I know? Because I had two of you once and look how great they turned out.

I love you. Happy birthday! Let’s do lunch, as soon as you can eat solid food.



2 responses to “Today is Miles’ birthday. He’s 0 years old.

  1. Congratulations to all! Miles looks very satisfied with himself and his dramatic and speedy entry into this world. Now. Here’s the question. What is Miles going to call you? PopPop? Poppy? Pappy? PawPaw? PeePaw? What your grandchild will call you is discussed almost as much as what to name the child. I’m interested in what you would prefer. As for me, I did not want to be a Nana, Nanny, MomMom, MewMaw, etc. I am Mimzy. Not the last Mimzy, which was a pretty good movie by the way. The First Mimzy. At least in my family.

  2. Hi, Mimzy. Good to hear from you again. Just between you and me, I wanted Miles to call me by my first name. I’m pretty sure he’ll know I’m his grandfather. Otherwise, I just want to be his friend.

    And then I realized that what I wanted Miles to call me was a trick question. Note to self: All questions my wife and daughter ask me are rhetorical. They’re just being nice. It doesn’t really make any difference what I think. I prefer they save time and just tell me what I’m thinking, but they’re too nice to go that far, and I’m too nice to argue with them.

    The answer to your very much appreciated question is, “Doodad.” My daughter suggested it, in that irresistible way daughters “suggest” things to their fathers.

    Thanks, Mimzi. I’ve been “asked” if it isn’t time for me to get the car. Got to go. Talk to you later.


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