The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that it was Avery’s specific and devious plan that she be born second, on the day following her twin brother.
Truth be told, Lynnette and I almost let Cole’s 1st month marker lapse yesterday. “Wait,” Lynnette said. “What’s the date?” “The 8th,” I said. “It’s the 9th,” Madison said. “Oh,” I said. “Really?” Lynnette said. “Yeah,” Madison said. She shook her head. “Even my teacher got the date wrong today!” Well, then.
It looks like it’s going to be impossible to forget Avery’s birthday from here on out. Cole’s might sneak up on us, but then we’d feel bad, then tell ourselves we can’t possibly forget Avery’s now because man that would make us terrible parents and we can’t be terrible parents can we I mean really. It’s exactly the kind of thing that Avery would do, even when she was negative-18 hours old. When she cries she throws in this tiny weak whimper every so often. It’s dramatic and pathetic and heart-rending and it works. “So sad!” I say seconds before I drop what I’m doing to pick her up. She’s a manipulator. Cole is one of those lumbering Brontosauruses, concerned only with finding new foliage at the tippity-top of trees to toss into his belly. Avery is a raptor conducting weird social experiments and storing the results for later exploitation.
The only thing I could think of during the first two weeks of Avery’s life was “She doesn’t look like any of us.” More recently, however, she’s filled out in the cheeks a little and I am thrilled to report that she looks slightly more Higa-ish. She’s still constantly judging all of us from behind those big eyes, but they seem smaller, less disdainful now that they’re more proportional with the rest of her face. By no means, though, am I suggesting her condescending days are over. No way. She does this thing that I haven’t been able to catch on video yet. It’s going to be revolutionary like the footage of the great white shark jumping completely out of the water or this.
I am guilty of talking to Avery with an exaggerated high-pitched voice. I don’t know, I guess I did the same with Madison. I throw in the “sweetie” and “cutie” and “sweetheart”. But sometimes when I’m talking to her, she shifts her eyes away from me – like a side-eye – and tucks her elbows in at the sides. Finally, once in this position, she rubs her hands together. She looks like this, except she isn’t looking at me. I can be in mid-sentence and she’ll just break this out. My newborn daughter essentially disengages and says OOOOOOKAAAAAAAAY… I mean, it’s so hurtful. I HAVE A COLLEGE DEGREE, AVERY! YOU CAN’T JUST PRETEND I’VE STOPPED TALKING WHEN I’M STILL TALKING!