Second Child Syndrome

Poor Caid. I promised I would not permit his abandon to the “second child syndrome”, vowing that the photographic smothering would extend to his dimpled face. However, perhaps the old adage about a squeaky wheel procuring paramount attention aptly applies. Perhaps if Kincaid protested the grossly disproportionate attention lavished upon his elder sister, he might be equally mortified in twenty years by copious captured bath time occasions. Alas, a squeaky wheel he is not. In fact, so contented is he that in recent weeks, as he has begun to teethe with a vengeance I have felt (cruelly so) a bit indignant at the sound of his whimpering complaints. At present, he is industriously working to gnaw off his own foot, all the while sounding more like a snorting piglet since he has conveniently acquired an Easter cold. My poor little darling. And yet, though miserable with raging gums, male pattern baldness and sinus cavity congestion, he is liberal with his heart-stealing smiles.

***A political aside: We love you Israel-Even if our president does not. Proliferate on!