Meeting Molly

Molly is 2 months old. I'm 43. She's around 10 lbs. I'm 20 times that weight. I'm used to moving heavy electrical switch-gear. My hands are strong from bending copper cables one and a half inches thick into tight places, just making them fit. Today I moved energized 15,000 volt cables out of my way so I could route new cables for tomorrow's job. I feel I could accomplish any task I put my mind to. I'm a big, construction worker, dammit! How come Molly scares the hell out of me?

I thought I had her beat. We had dinner Thursday night, but while we were eating, so was she. I sat next to her waitress (my sister), while she was fed the most nourishing meal for a newborn, while in the privacy of her own tent. I heard her. I saw her. I waved at her. I said hi. Then I left.

Yesterday she was inducted into her parent's church in a ceremony that I missed. In her honor, we had a cook-out and volleyball. It was really a meet-and-greet though. We all had fun, enjoyed the food, played ball, laughed at each other (I took pictures!) then settled in the living room to watch the two teenage boys control their pixels to slash pixel swords at other pixels, while listening to the teenage girls laugh at the pictures, and the boys. Once the kitten pooped on me, I figured it was time to go.

I had almost made it! I had my coat on, and my sunglasses. Keys in hand, I was in the kitchen, headed for the door, when I heard the spine-chilling words: "Shawn, I don't have a picture of you holding Molly." I froze. I was caught. She had bested me. The only thing to do was to make the best of it. I did what I do best in high-pressure, nerve-wracking situations...I winged it. I took hold of her like a football, cradled like Walter Peyton, and gingerly stepped over the mass of legs on the floor (again, like Walter Peyton) to the couch, where I was able to sit down with a sigh, knowing that even if I did fumble the Molly, she wouldn't fall far.

I even warmed up a bit. We played Supergirl! She loves to "fly" on her stomach. I pretened to let loose Supergirl's most heinous weapons, projectile vomiting, on the 3 teenage girls, the 2 teenage boys, Molly's mother, my cousin, and anyone else in the room. Then we settled down for some pictures. I know Molly looked good. I hope I did too.