It's no secret that babies terrify me. There's just something about being loud and breakable that sets my senses on edge. In 23 years, I have only held one baby, that was forced upon me during an eleven-hour flight from Dar to London. He was a nine-month-old ginger named Rufus, with heartbreaking blue eyes, and he crawled across me to get a peek out the window as we passed over the Libyan desert. Then he vomited on me a little. 1-0 Babies.
But Jessica's baby may be the exception. She's bright and charming, and has a wardrobe I would kill for. Her first words should definitely be 'thanks, mom.'