Shannon Phillips

Robin really likes bathtime these days. He especially loves kicking the water so it splashes everywhere. I had a picture of him grinning like a loon, but it was blurry, so you get this one instead.

I actually dithered about posting this snapshot, since I do intent to instruct my children that posting pictures of their genitals to the Internet is in general a bad idea. But the actual pee-pee visibility is minimal here—and the solemn, wet little baby face so very cute—so in the end I decided to share.

The question of whether to post images of one’s children on the Internet is one to which conscientious parents arrive at different answers. The bogeyman scenario, I guess, is that some crazed psycho would happen upon these pictures and decide to kidnap our son. I know enough about how our fears are disconnected from true risk—and specifically about how our fears are disconnected from the true risk of child abuse—to realize that this scenario is so unlikely as to bear no consideration.

What I do think is worth considering is my son’s right to privacy, to control his own image. The Internet is forever, and anybody can look at these images. They might even be used in ways we never intended. I respect parents who choose to limit the dissemination of their children’s images, but I’ve decided that the convenience of easily sharing them with our whole scattered network of family and friends, and the joy they bring thereby, is worth the trade-off.

So as you can see, we broke down and bought a stroller. Robin’s big enough now that carrying him in the sling is starting to hurt my back. Our first trip to the grocery store wasn’t without its own difficulties, though: it’s hard to carry a handbasket and push a stroller at the same time. A backpack like the Baby Bjorn might be a better answer…

On the way home we stopped to vote:

Well, Robin didn’t vote, he’s too young! Wait’ll you pay taxes, little buddy.

While we were there a mother with her little girl stopped to admire him, but when they got close he burst out crying. He’s never done that before! I guess we’re getting into the stranger-anxiety phase the baby books tell me to expect.

In mental health news, last week we spent a lovely vacation in Las Vegas with Nina and Elizabeth, and it’s done wonders for my happiness quotient. Flying with the baby wasn’t as bad as I’d feared: we got cheap upgrades to first class both arriving and departing, and after a little initial fussiness both times, Robin fell asleep for the majority of the flight. Nina had scored a very nice suite, and we all had a great time going around to the buffets and gawking at the outrageous decor of the Strip. Just having extra players in the endless game of Bounce the Fussy Baby makes such a difference to my stress levels.

I’ve realized that we need to live much closer to family or close friends—going it alone is far from ideal for any of us. The sad thing is that our families are scattered all over the map, so it’s hard to pick a place to settle. The deciding factor will have to be Sam’s job prospects. Probably in a few months we’re going to start taking a serious look at relocating.