family, it's a strange one. one half's too good for the other, the other halfs too good for the first. in their own heads they make up these demarcations. in leading their own lives they're so pure. my nephew is a few months old, and i hate his name. i whisper in his ear that it's not his name, no his name is something else. sometimes, i whisper his name in his ear, and he gives me his favourite kind of smile. the blubbery smile. other than my cat and my ex-boss's dog and his puppies, this is the first baby i willingly held, and did not whack. be that as it may, the little bugger was playing "whack the lens" with me. come too close, he reaches with stubby baby unco ordinated fingers to grab the lens seeking some kind of focus and kills every intention of focus, mister blubber man.
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