PAULA ARRIVED Friday evening. She brought Margarita with her.
Margarita, 23, is her mother, the daughter of one of my child bride’s many siblings, the sister who lives in the state capital.
Paula, being just eight months old, had to bring her mother along for the ride because Paula does not do much without assistance.
I’m not really a baby sort of guy. They make lots of noise and generally disregard all rules of hygiene and proper behavior. They think the universe revolves around them. Everyone knows it revolves around me.
I’m so not a baby sort of guy that I got a vasectomy when I was just 24.
But Paula is better than most babies, and has created little inconvenience. She does not cry. She does not howl. I’ve seen no evidence of poop or pee since she arrived, though I suspect we must credit her mother for that. Paula minds her own business, but your company is always met with a smile.
If you’re gonna have a baby in your house, invite Paula. She behaves herself far better than your run-of-the-mill kid, and she grins a lot. She is a good-humored child. I even held her a time or two, and it wasn’t that bad.
As I write this Sunday morning, we are preparing to drive to the state capital for shopping, eating at a restaurant and hauling Paula (and her mother) home to their small apartment. The two of them enjoyed a couple of nights at the Hacienda, and I rather enjoyed it too.