In contemporary western culture, such as it is, it’s supposed to be a proverbi against the most unsavoury, unsatisfactory, unworthy, and sullied sort of priviledged punk : he born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
But what’s a kid to do ?
Just this week, after only 2.5 hours of labour,ii Gidoiii arrived with a tongue-in-cheek silver spooniv and the Moet & Chandon was popped in celebration of the latest addition to our family. Another boy!v
The Moet certainly wasn’t tongue-in-cheek (it was crystal-to-lips-delicious) but was the silver spoon just a joke ? While obviously not meant to be taken 100% literally (it wasn’t even sterling), it was more just a reminder of how fortunate we are, which a new child will certainly do anyways, but can you really have too many such reminders ?
With this good fortune in mind, we’ll be spending the next two (or three?) decades ensuring that our
financial means means are used to create opportunities rather than coddle, lifting rather than smothering, and adding beauty rather than spoiling. So here’s to a very good life for little Ari Alexander Dushenski… may you earn every last drop you squeeze from me, and from the world!
- At least amongst the blatantly and shamelessly envious it’s a saying, but only because the fertile pioneer lands have always been rife with penniless castaways, nothing more. That some of this sorry lot rose to the top of the heap was an inevitable statistical function, but that those at the top are now so eager to give it all away (à la Buffett) only confirms how much of a fluke it all was. But that’s the genetic lottery for you. Not everyone can be a true one-in-a-million. Let me tell you. [↩]
- We did a home birth again and the labour progressed so quickly that I barely had time to fill the birth pool! [↩]
- Ukrainian grandfathers often go by “Gido,” as my father does, as his father did. [↩]
- Note that the silver spoon in question was really just a run-of-the-mill Birks plated teaspoon, not one of those vainglorious “purpose-built” thingamajigs that Tiffany’s chumpatronically sells for $200 ; this was nothing like that. This was simply a reminder that this newborn’s parents didn’t have anything resembling a silver spoon when they were born and neither did his grandparents, and only on his Safta’s side a century ago did his great-grandparents know anything resembling such luxury anywhere in his multi-branched lineage. Maybe it’s a once-in-a-hundred-years kind of gift that someone, somewhere in our family “makes it,” but I’ll be damned if I drop the ball in my lifetime. One thing’s for sure : there will be no starting from scratch for as long as Bitcoin exists. [↩]
- For those counting at home, that’s two-for-two! This one came in at an impressive 59 cm in length, exactly the same as his Pantagruelean older brother, but a one-upping 10 lbs 6 oz in birth weight. Damn! Also, as you can also see in the photo above, #2 is #notblond and miles closer to my Mediterranean complexion than his Aryan older brother. Finally, I can put those pesky paternity questions to rest!
Speaking of the blond wunderkind (pictured above), our first is 2.5-years-old now, already 105 cm tall, and has been surprisingly accommodating of the new addition given how much of his turf has been eaten up this week. Older brother may flip his shit once it “clicks,” but then again he may decide that statistics don’t apply to individuals and there’s more than enough mommy and daddy to go around.
With the newborn just sleeping all day at this point, and older brother just being his usual who-put-a-quarter-in-you self with boatloads of energy but no hint yet of jealous tantrums, we’re in a glorious sweet spot these first few postpartum days. We’re definitely in celebration mode – so it’s champagne, visinata, and La Favourite cheesecake for everyone who stops by! [↩]