A Dozen and Counting

It's incredible that a perfect human being can come in such a miniature package. But there she is, complete in every detail right down to fingernails, toenails, and eyelashes. Kendall Kathryn, grandchild number twelve.

I was fortunate enough to get to meet her when she was only eight days old, and it occurred to me as I was watching her sleep on my lap that she may be the tiniest baby I've ever had the privilege of holding. Her six pounds and five ounces, while certainly a normal and healthy weight, was downright petite compared to her cousins. Most of the rest of the dozen tipped the scales at eight or nine or even ten pounds.

Kendall is a dainty little person, with long slender fingers and narrow feet. Her head, with its delicate tracery of brownish hair, is too small for even her newborn sized hats. She seems much too tiny to hold her own in a household that includes a lively big brother and two opinionated beagles.

So far, her brother, just past babyhood himself, seems to find her mildly intriguing but not all that significant. No doubt he'll show a lot more interest when she gets old enough to pull his hair and grab his toys.

The dogs tend to regard her with a similar mild curiosity. One of them, the nervous type, has already conceded her superior position after she scared him into submission by getting the hiccups. The other one, whose heart is reachable via a direct line through her stomach, will become a devoted follower as soon as the baby is old enough to drop edible bits onto the floor.

She may be tiny, but my guess is that Kendall will more than hold her own. Her dark blue eyes are direct and clear, and there's a firm chin beneath her dainty mouth. Big brother Jack and the beagles had better make room for her. Kendall is clearly an alpha baby.