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Yes this is another post about Henry. This afternoon while I was on the phone with my mom, he scooted around on his tummy for a bit, then sat himself up. Then, he scooted around on his tummy and then sat himself up. Lather, rinse, repeat. He's doing it like it's no big shakes, like he's been doing it since before he was born, which wouldn't surprise me all that much because for about four months it did feel like he was most likely sitting directly on my bladder. Anyway, this is more proof that my kid's a genius.

There's something that I've been quietly nervous about since before I ever even thought about having kids, even when I was going through the whole "Please, I'm never having kids" stage, a stage which probably caused great consternation in my mom, although she outwardly handled it very well. Now that I've had a kid, the nervousness has hit a fever pitch, particularly since Henry is starting to show signs that he will soon be proudly displaying four new teeth, all of which will be lined up front and center in his upper gum. When I was eight or nine my dad and I were goofing around in the Watertown Mall and I accidentally smacked my tooth against an ATM machine. My dad was 300 feet away from me when it happened and had absolutely nothing to do with it whatsoever. That's a lie. I was brought to a dentist, who then said I needed to go to an orthodontist, and thus I embarked on a six or seven year journey that involved tons of metal being inserted around and on top of every tooth in my mouth. Also, it involved lots of little balls of wax, which your supposed to put on the metal braces to keep them from scraping the inside of your mouth to little bits (it doesn't work by the way), falling out of my mouth and ending up crushed into the carpet, much to my mom's consternation (she spent lots of time being consternated during my youth, "consternated" being a word I'm pretty sure I just made up, and which sounds an awful lot like constipated so I bet she's going to make me change it to "dismayed" or "annoyed"). Anyway, my hope is that somehow Henry will inherit his dad's teeth, his dad who spent nary a second in the post-braces-tightening agony that I had to endure during my youth. Now that his four upper teeth are coming in, I'm afraid we're at the moment of truth. So please, for Henry's sake, hope that his teeth are like this:

and not like this: