Mr. b loves babies. He always has. He's a baby person. He holds babies of customers that come into his cafe. He starts conversations with parents in stores. He always notices other babies in restaurants. And he's convinced that Kirk is literally the cutest baby ever. I don't need to compare him to other babies to know that! Mr. b even wants to see if he can get Kirk some commercial gigs. Why not? Hey, if he can pay for his own hospital bills, that would be great!

I continue to not notice other babies. I just don't care. I'm not a baby person and never have been. Sure, I notice parents with car seats next to them in restaurants. But I have no desire to peek in and check out the baby. I just don't care. Obviously I'll be excited when my nephew is born in a few months. And it's great fun meeting my friend's babies. But strangers? Don't matter at all.

I've never been much of a baby person. I played with Barbies, not baby dolls. My sister reminded me recently that I used to pawn off babysitting jobs on her. That's not entirely accurate. I would pawn off babysitting jobs. Toddlers were just fine. Kids were great. I did not do diapers. In fact, I never once changed a poopy diaper in my entire life before my son was born.

Bald spots