Down on the farm

Here's Oscar on the cusp of one of his elusive smiles. Actually capturing one on film has so far proven a task worthy of a National Geographic special, but they should grow more frequent and sustained as the weeks pass -- provided Poppa improves his sorry repetoire of funny faces and silly voices.

He's really ratcheted up the cuteness factor of late with a range of new sounds and expressions. Which is good, since he's also gone blotchy with baby acne and his hair is thinning out ('Milk hair?'). Not that it's a competition or anything, but I must confess that we've succumbed to the classic neurotic new parent behavior -- checking out every newborn we see on a stroll and remarking smugly to ourselves: "Ours is cuter." In my more depraved moments, I've even sized up small dogs this way.

But Oscar inevitably wins any beauty contest. No precious SoHo shitzu, no matter how impeccably dressed and coiffed, can best our boy.