Naughtyman has plagiocephaly. It's not serious, merely the outcome of eight months of squeezing in the womb and a tendency to lie with his head turned left.
He will have to sweat his way through the summer in a polypropylene helmet. I can picture him in it. It will put a damper on these wonderful months of growing and becoming, I know it. He has soulful eyes and spends a lot of his time with a puzzled look, verging on pleading with the world for solutions. It can't be easy being a twin. You can never quite get the attention a singleton does.
I am not complaining though. To have three healthy children is a blessing not afforded to many on this planet. They are unlikely to be struck down by disease or hurt in civil strife or war, because I live in a place of peace and prosperity.
I am thankful. It is because I am thankful that I believe in equity. I wish the world to share the good life I have.
Naughtyman's head will grow into something approaching symmetry and he will be a beautiful boy. The soulful eyes will make him a hit with the girls (or boys).
I will love him regardless. He will always be beautiful to me.
Children are a lesson in what love is. It's a word much bandied about, used and abused, sometimes degraded into nothing much more than a desire to fuck someone (not in itself a bad thing but hardly the noble, inspiring emotion that we might hope love would be). But I understand it now. I understand it in the heartbreaking truth that the moment of my death will be when I cease to know them; I understand it in the pain that failure brings when I know they will suffer for it; I understand it in knowing that beauty and ugliness are things that can be felt and not just seen.