I love miniature people!

Last week I got to meet one of the newest humans to populate the Raleigh-Durham MSA, Little Miss Harper (I think I had a book by that name when I was a kid). I used to work with Harper's mom--I still cringe at having to say the "used to" part--who allowed me to come visit her precious bundle a few days ago. Since she and I have a certain miniature-ness in common (if to varying degrees), I couldn't wait to welcome her to the world.

If there's something cuter than a newborn baby, I don't know what it is. When I arrived, Baby Harper was sleeping in Dad's lap just as you see her here, mouth open in a kind of perfect circle "oh" that can only be located on the face of a newborn baby. When I commented that I hadn't wanted to ring the doorbell so as not to wake her, her mom scoffed. "Please," she said. "I don't know why everyone's so freakin' quiet. She's a baby. She sleeps." These were the words of a mom who had been through a long week of learning the delicate rhythms of a baby's sleeping and eating patterns. Successfully, as it turns out, since here was Harper, snoozing away on her father's lap, already secure in her role as Daddy's Girl.

But Daddy generously offered to share. I took more time to make myself comfortable on the couch than my cat, Sasha, does, and Daddy handed her over to me. Not that Harper noticed. She continued to snooze, nary the wiser that she had a new protector in the world. Princess that she is, Harper has a full head of hair and is already busy trying a variety of hairstyles to see which flatter her the most (my vote is "all of them"). Some give her bangs. Some give her spikes on the top of her head. Here's a fun fact. Supposedly, babies born with a lot of hair were often the source of much heartburn for their moms (the kind that growing babies give their pregnant moms, not the kind that growing teenagers give their weary parents). Pregnant moms who have heartburn frequently inhale Tums like mountain air, and the calcium encourages hair growth in the unborn baby. Harper's hair is only the beginning of her good looks. With cheeks crying out to be squeezed, that full head of hair many women pay good money for, and a petite, 6lb figure (she STILL doesn't fit into the outfit that was to be her "going home" frock), the girl can rock a onesie.

I settled back and happily imagined ways that I might convince Harper's parents that she really belonged at my house. I love the way a newborn's head can kind of reshape into whatever position works best at the moment, flattening out one minute, pointing up a little the next. I watched Harper snooze, not even able to tear myself away when offered a slice of pizza. I needed both hands on Baby Harper, lest she, I don't know, sneezed or something. Dad sat next to me, watching with a smile on his face (HE was able to eat his pizza). Mom sat across the room, watching carefully, ever vigilant and not entirely unlike the Tiger Mother described in the well-known book of last year. Evidently, this sharing thing was only going to go so far.

Shortly before I was forced to offered to hand Harper back to her parents and give up my dream of kidnapping her before anyone could stop me, Harper's Auntie came home. Reluctantly, I handed her over and watched Auntie's face light up at being reunited with Harper. "Were they good to you?" she crooned. Harper's mom explained to me that Auntie has already been giving Harper life lessons in things like the proper use of the Internet and worthlessness that is the Gossip Girls books. Auntie takes her job very seriously.

Mom, having watched Harper make the rounds long enough, took her new daughter back and allowed me to snap some pictures and videos. Well, not so much allowed as stood still and muttered something about short people with camera phones. Through all this, Baby Harper didn't wake up once. Clearly adaptable, she has joined the world demanding all the attention that she deserves, happy to let those around her cater to her every need. Her mom reports that she does little besides eat, sleep, and require diaper changes, and really, isn't that the way it should be?