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Daddy Duty is written by Richard Harris, publisher of The Tri-County Journal & Chattahoochee Chronicle.
From Family Fun to ...
Flatulence in Five Seconds!
 
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          "Look, he's smiling! ... He's smiling at us," my wife said while still in the hospital with our first-born.
         It was the first time our son decided that instead of simply crying and sleeping, he'd actually let us know he was not just alive, but alive and well. It was as if he realized that these two giant people who were cooing and ga-ga'ing over him weren't a couple of aliens who had abducted him from his nice, quiet home in the womb in order to subject him to experiments in the wide openness of the earth. No, these people were his Moma and Daddy and those strange faces they were making at him were designed to show their total love for him. So, he decided to look at them and give them a big ol' grin, just to let them know he understood.
         It was a time of extreme excitement. It was a time of true bonding. It was a breakthrough moment. ..... Or so we thought.
         As we bounced of the ceiling and celebrated this milestone, a nurse walked in and actually had the gall to matter-of-factly state that our son was only smiling because he was breaking wind.      "It makes them smile," she said. "It's cute, but they aren't real smiles. He's just expelling some gas."
       Talk about a letdown. From total bliss to big, blowout -- from fabulous to flatulence -- from family moment to fart ... all in less than five seconds. We mentioned this with other parents when they came to visit us, hoping they'd say, "yeah, they told us that too, but we didn't believe them either." Instead, they all verified that the smiles of the first few days -- even weeks -- aren't smiles at all, but only the passing of gas.
       "Well, how will we know when he really starts to smile at us?" I asked, wondering if I'd spend the next couple of years wondering if I had an ounce of humor in my soul or if my son just had pound of gas in his belly.
       "You'll know" was the simple response. So the following weeks witnessed discussions between my wife and myself that went like this: Honey, come here quick. I think he's really smiling this time.
     "Are you sure? That looks like the same smile he had an hour ago just before his diaper started to sag."
       Well, I just said something very funny and now he's looking directly into my eyes and laughing like a hyena. I tell you, he's really smiling at me this time.
       "Stand back behind him and see if he stops."
       Okay, so now he's smiling at the wall. Maybe he thought it was a real funny joke and he just can't stop laughing.
       "Yeah, I guess you could be right. Wait a minute, what's that smell? ... Honey, I think you need to quit kidding yourself and start thinking about changing his diaper."
         Then, just when we were about to decide that our little boy would never care who his parents were enough to actually acknowledge them, as long as they were there to feed him when he was hungry and change his diaper when he was messy, it happened. Out of the blue, he looked at us and smiled. And it wasn't gas. And we knew ... just like everyone said we would. When your baby -- your own flesh and blood -- looks in your eyes and really smiles for the first time it's nothing short of intoxicating.
         I think it's because babies don't smile like the rest of us. Oh, sure, we smile, but we don't put our whole soul into it like babies do. We don't allow ourselves to be joyous with reckless abandon. Think about it. When's the last time you grinned like a possum while simultaneously kicking your legs as fast as possible in an effort to let someone know just how darn happy you were?
         No, adults don't smile like that. Even when we're at our happiest we tend to try and maintain some sense of societal decorum ... maybe because we've grown cynical and we're afraid doom may be lurking around the corner.
         Or maybe we just take ourselves and our lives too darn seriously, thinking that if someone sees just how happy we can be, we won't be able to argue effectively with them later on when there's a problem.
         Ah, but if I could have captured that first baby smile in a bottle and given it to the world at large there would not only never be another argument in the history of mankind, but Hillary Clinton and Newt Gingrich would become the best of friends.
 
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