The binky in the photo

Every day I await my “Morning Malcolm.”
That’s a photo of my new grandson in Los Angeles. Hollywood, actually.
He is three months old today.
In a pre-Covid world, I would have been there holding him on Father’s Day weekend. That was the plan when my son and his wife told me they were pregnant back on my birthday, last Nov. 2. Now we’re not sure when that will happen. Maybe not until next year.
So, you can see why I treasure the pictures.
My son is a freelance creative director in the advertising world, which means he typically works from home. A photo he sent last week – in black and white, for effect – shows him seated at a keyboard with Malcolm on his lap. Both are staring at the computer screen.
Looking around the shot of his home office, I cracked up when I spied Malcolm’s binky sitting close by. I text him to say that was my favorite part of the photo. He said it was his too.
It brought to mind a story.
When my daughter was around Malcolm’s age, I was in the office of the newspaper The Sunday Dispatch where I was managing editor. I slipped on my sport coat and felt something in the inside breast pocket. I reached in and pulled out a bib.
My friend Kenny Feeney, our chief photographer noted for his quick wit, said without hesitation, “It was not that long ago that might have been a bra.”
He gave me far too much credit.

Ed Ackerman