Jimmy

I think I've made it abundantly clear lately that I do not like babies.

I know a few people who are absolutely wonderful with them - they know exactly what each little twitch means, can head off the mewling and spewing. I admire those women. I think I've known only three - E, Annushka, and Ralph's good daughter, Rhianne.

E is so wonderful with kids and obviously loves them so much, that she should have had - and would have had - at least two more besides Son of E and Little E, had the circumstances been right. I think Annushka was completely satisfied with her two girls.

Rhianne is probably close to 40 now and married to a great guy - Ryan. They have two brilliant daughters, twins, who are beyond precocious, creatively. And they have a funny little boy who I can imagine living a quiet life making hand-made canoes or working in a library.

They just recently put into effect a long-standing dream to become foster parents. They closed in the three-season porch next to their bedroom. Rhianne and Ryan got the kids' buy-in. They went through the foster parent training program. And three weeks ago, a little boy was delivered to them in the middle of the night.

I met him this past Saturday. Jimmy is probably no more than ten months old. Rhianne had an adorable outfit on him. And one thing I noticed at the party was that he was lovingly passed from woman to girl to woman, was cooed over, was kissed, was hugged, was baby talked to.

And not once did that kid smile.

When Rhianne got Jimmy back in her arms, he clung to her and she nuzzled his neck, kissed it over and over again. But he did not smile.

Rhianne said, "He's got about three hours in him and then he's had enough and wants to go to sleep."

I touched his chubby little arm. I rubbed his back. Lucky kid, I thought. Poor kid. Lucky to land with someone who's nearly an expert with kids. Poor kid that he's seen whatever he's seen in his short little life. Enough to keep him from smiling back at the smiling people who already love him. Enough for him to be wary.

I don't know his story, so I don't know if he came to Rhianne from whatever desperate situation he was in with his mother and / or father, or if he'd been passed around already from family member to family member.

Looking into his meltingly sweet brown eyes, I wondered what he had seen. And I wondered what it would take for him to ever smile again. And I hope he gets to stay with Rhianne and Ryan for a long, long time, because if anyone can do it, they can.