"Only You"

Juliet crawls. She pulls herself up on furniture and stands. She sprouted her lower right central tooth, and won’t let us touch it. She’s unlike any other baby. Ever.

Juliet points and pants when she wants things. Teeth are her favorite. She cries when she doesn’t get what she wants, and loses interest after she does. She’s obsessed with cell phones, laptops and remote controls. She likes to push buttons, and sees the irony.

She empties wallets and pocketbooks, one thing at a time, handing them back carefully or carelessly tossing them aside. She has her reasons. She watches us through the blind end of the baby monitor, watching her. She tilts her head and smiles.

Juliet is unique.

I am a cliché. Last weekend, I went grocery shopping. Then to Home Depot, and Bed Bath and Beyond. I bought a ton of shit, and it all fit fine in my SUV.

I stopped by a friend’s house in Cherry Hill. He was in the pool with his niece. She’s only a couple of months older than Juliet. He asked me how things were going. I told him that I’m tired all the time, but hopeful that the new expensive pillows I bought would help.

My buddy explained his niece’s affinity for cell phones, laptops and remote controls. She reached for his teeth. He closed his mouth, and she cried. He opened it, and she was on to something else.

“I could have sworn Juliet was the only baby who did any of that stuff,” I said.

“There’s eight million babies doing exactly that stuff right now,” said my buddy’s dad.

“My kids did that stuff,” said his mom. “You should really have another.”

“At least I’d know what to expect,” I said.

Knowing what to expect. That would be seriously weird. And much less blogworthy.