It rained and rained. Juliet’s professional pictures got postponed and postponed.
“She’s getting chubby,” I said. “What if she’s going through an awkward phase for her pictures?”
“Chubby babies are cute,” Melissa said.
“She has fat rolls on her knee.”
“You have wrinkles,” Melissa said. “Around your eyes.”
“Da ba da ba ba ba,” Juliet said.
After months of waiting, the sun and the photographer finally made it out on the same day. Juliet had developed a little cantaloupe shaped belly, but she was still mode- cute. Her eyes blue, and huge. Her hair curling above her ears. Her lips full and pouty, like Melissa’s. Juliet is perfect. And I am wrinkled.
We put Juliet in a tie dye green dress and followed our photographer around Old City. We set Juliet down on the side walk by the orange National building, in front of the little pink bakery, and on the cobble stone in Elfriths Alley. Melissa and I made monkey noises to make Juliet smile. But for the first time in a long time, nothing we did made her smile.
I jumped up and down, made funny faces and howled like a coyote. A teenaged tourist told his father I was a “homo,” took a picture of me on his iPhone and put it on the internet. Juliet was not as amused as the tourist. She was hot. She looked tired and cranky. She was not herself. I’m not sure when it happened, but, at some point, Juliet developed a self.
We found a patch of grass in the shade. The photographer suggested we take off all of Juliet’s clothes to cool her off. As I stripped Juliet down to her diaper, the tourist and his father walked by a second time. I smiled as the boy took another picture, and hoped Juliet would finally do the same.
I put Juliet on the grass. She screamed and lifted her legs. Part of being Juliet, we learned, involved hating the feel of grass. Nobody smiled. We gave up on outdoor pictures, and we went home.
Home, everything changed. Juliet cooled down and warmed up. She laughed and babbled. She held up her pointer finger, declaring that she was number one. We all agreed. The photographer said she could be a model. I said I knew. Then I told Juliet that she was growing up so fast. She said, “da ba da da ba.”
Translation: “Daddy, you too.”
