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October 18, 2001
Are optimism and pessimism hardwired? I can't help
thinking they are, given how Augustus (the optimist) and
Henry (the pessimist) greet the world already:
Gus:
Listen, the formula's great. Feed me whenever you
get around to it, I'm in no rush. No, no, take your
time, really. There's always plenty more where that
came from. Diaper change? Whenever. I'm not going
anywhere!
Henry:
This is the last time you'll feed me, ever. Right? Right? No, it's OK, you can tell me the truth, this is the last
bottle I'll ever get, so I need it right now. No, wait,
don't go away, why have all the lights gone out? Oh,
it's because I'm blind! I'm not blind? It was just my hat
over my eyes? Oh man, that was a close one. Now, can
you change my diaper, please? Please? I hate dirt. I am
never going to eat and I'm probably going blind and I'll be
sitting in this dirty diaper until I die. Wait, there's more food? And I'm being changed? Whew. OK. OK. But
then this is the last bottle you'll ever give me, right?
As some sort of evolutionarily adaptive insurance that I will
not throttle him, Henry has perfected that look of baby
gratitude, enormous wide eyes boring into me, guzzling the
bottle with grunts of pleasure, as if to say, "Thank you thank
you thank you, if you'd waited one more minute before feeding me
my head was going to explode."
His fist is a soft plum in my mouth.
