Ugly babies

Once upon a time, my spouse and I received a Christmas card from a distant friend. It featured a picture of their baby. After reading the holiday-friendly greeting, I said to TJ:
"This child looks like a troll."
He burst out laughing, "That's exactly what I was thinking!"

Oh, you poor thing.

Yessir, this lovely couple had spawned something truly unfortunate looking. The poor kid could have been straight out a Dr. Seuss book. I'm sure that it will grow into its ears and nose and someday its hair will stop sticking straight up like that. And, you know, if not, I'm sure that baby has a wonderful personality.

Now I know what you are all thinking — There's no such thing as an ugly baby. And that's just lies, folks. It's lies. I know it's not polite to talk about, and it certainly is not polite to tell a parent they have an ugly baby. Because all parents think their baby is the cutest thing to have ever come from their loins — and it likely is.

But maybe they just don't have loins that look all that great.



We all know that there are ugly people in this world. I'm sure you yourself are friends or relatives with at least one or two not very attractive individuals. And beauty is somewhat genetic. So it stands to reason that two ugly people could create an ugly baby. Of course, two ugly people could have beautiful genes in there somewhere and create a tiny baby Heather Locklear, but the odds are not in their favor.

When confronted with an ugly baby, you have a few options:
1) Take the tactic of a former colleague of mine, Ed: With as much enthusiasm as you can muster, look that baby straight in the eye and say, "Well now, THAT'S a baby!" Congratulate the parent on their ability to produce spawn, hand over a present and back away.

2) Make a noncommittal comment about a generic feature or outfit: "What a cute shirt!" "S/he is getting so big!" Be careful not to let the comment get out of hand — noting the size of its ginormous cranium is not comforting for the mother who just shoved it out of her yang. Don't get carried away and give the kid or its new, super proud parents a complex.

3) Don't lie. Don't think you're helping by showering an obviously hideous child with praise about its looks. That kid is going to grow up and you can bet the other toddlers at preschool won't be shy about cluing it in that it's fugly. At the same time, I don't recommend taking the tact of another former coworker of mine and just declaring every baby you see the ugliest baby in the world in an effort to hedge your bets.

Obviously, I fear producing an ugly child. I myself was an adorable baby (Anyone will tell you so with complete honesty). But my brother was cute, too, and he grew up to be a wooly mountain man, so I'm open to the fact that childhood looks don't necessarily translate into lifetime physical perfection. But look at the genetics I'm working with here: My utterly adorable, freckled, red-haired husband's genes will someday meet with my adorable, dimpled, curly-haired genes inutero and what will we have?

Carrot Top.

Oh, the humanity.

But whatever happens, I'm ready for it. And if I start to wonder about whether or not my spawn is as cute as I myself am just damn sure it is, I can always go to Rapid City and find Ed. He'll probably give me a hug, a big smile, and a well-earned, enthusiastic, "Well now, THAT'S a baby! Congratulations!"