And a Baby to be named later

Mark has a little baby boy. My old Theatre School pal sent me a video of him and the little unnamed guy — Mark gets to use the religion card as the excuse for procrastinating on the name — of the first bonding moment between father and son. In it, the two guys stare at each other for a good 15 silent seconds before Mark’s dad-in-law (presumably, since I believe he was holding the camera) gets Mark talking. Behold, the transcript [with experienced Papa commentary]:

Dad of Mom: Are you talking baby talk to that baby?
[An obvious dad ploy to get Mark saying things for the nice movie, as 15 seconds of silence is an eternity for the cameraman.]

New Dad: No, I’m talking regular talk to this baby.
[We did the same. As my two-year-old might say, “Me no like baby talk. Me hunan bean.”]

New Dad watches as Unnamed Boy opens and closes his mouth.

New Dad: (to Unnamed Boy) Are you tired or are you hungry? (to Dad of Mom) You see, when they go like this —

New Dad moves mouth, as if cow chewing own tongue.

New Dad: I think he might be hungry.
[Nothing on earth makes you wiser and more insightful than new fatherhood.]

Dad of Mom: He’s going to be eating pretty soon.
[Unless its old fatherhood.]

Dad of Mom: I think I’m standing in a pool of blood, myself.
[Way to ruin the moment, Da-aad.]

New Dad: (looking at floor) Um, no. Some sticky substance, maybe, but it’s not blood.
[In my family, we would have had a shot of the sticky substance. For posterity’s sake. Leave it to the historians to decide. Now, back to the bonding …]

New Dad: (looking at Unnamed Boy) You came out of my friend, my little friend.

Watching the video took me back to Carter’s birth story. Someplace, in an unmarked box of old technology, there is a yet-to-be-released video of me jumping up and down shrieking, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” It took me a little while and quite a few hand flips before I was as calm as Mark.

Congratulations, Mark. Call me when you’ve monikered the kid.