Cutest baby in the world

Yep, another Jackson post. We just can't help ourselves. Could you resist with such a blessing?

I was recently reminded by my friend Amy about a conversation we had about 5 years ago, when her first child, Zane, was born. I was admiring him (I think), when she gushingly proclaimed, "Isn't he the cutest baby in the world?" I was a bit flummoxed regarding a correct response, as I recall. I did indeed think he was a very cute baby, but I wasn't sure if I could confidently agree that he was the cutest baby in the world. After all, I hadn't actually seen all the babies in the world to know if it was true. If I said yes, I would be lying (because I'm certain that among all of the kids who were babies at the time, there would have been at least one to rival Zane's cuteness). If I said no, she might take it the wrong way and think that I thought Zane wasn't cute (which wasn't the case). Apparently I replied, "I'm sure that all parents think their babies are the cutest in the world." When I look at that response in text, I can see how it might have seemed cruel or sarcastic. Pretty dumb response at any rate. But Amy reassures me that I said it in the most diplomatic of ways. I'm certain that I must have meant it in a way that confirmed Zane's cuteness.

Well Jackson and I took a trip to the Grove on Saturday. We were on a mission. We had exactly 72 minutes to buy birthday presents for his Grandma and his Auntie Cal and get back home before he would have a hunger meltdown. But all these people kept hindering our mission because they wanted to coo at him and tell me how cute he was. I was happy to agree (in spite of our rush), because Ian and I happen to think he's quite cute. In fact, we make sure we declare it to each other at least a few times a day just in case the other forgets this fact. Back to the Grove... After the 894th person (perhaps an exaggeration) stopped us to comment on his cuteness, I thought to myself, "Do all babies get this kind of response? Could I possibly have the cutest baby in the world?" Then I was horrified. My fear was only partly because I had joined the ranks of those parents who think their babies are the cutest in the world (which would actually put me in pretty good company). Actually, I was quite fearful about the idea of actually having the cutest baby in the world. Well... not really (because I'm sure there's at least one other baby who may be cuter), but I was a bit dismayed about the idea of possibly seeing my cute little boy turn into a knockout of a man.

It probably sounds ridiculous that the idea that this child might grow up to be attractive puts me in a pensive mood. It's just that I've been thinking about what kind of values I want to instill in my son. I really want him to be concerned above all else about the content of his soul. I want him to pursue the character of Jesus. But living in Los Angeles is so counter to this idea at times. There are beautiful people all over the place who place such high value on being beautiful. And people seem to treat the attractive differently. I sometimes wonder if growing up with the kind of special treatment afforded to those with outer beauty does something to the mind. Neither Ian nor I had this problem. I was rather average looking as a baby, gawky as a child, and surly as a tweener. Not much on the outside to draw positive attention. Ian was a cute baby and child, but had dreadful fashion sense to tone down his cuteness. Adolescence was an entirely different story for him. Let's just say I'm glad I met him when he was done with puberty. But neither of us really had to deal with people responding positively to us based only on our external appearance. We basically had to merit any good will. So I'm spending a few minutes thinking about this for our son. How can I teach him to value internal beauty over external beauty? Well, I guess I have a few years before I have to worry about this. Or...he may lose his cuteness and I won't have to worry about it at all. In the meantime, I'm sure I'll think of other weird things to obsess about regarding his future.

Clarice