You’d think these people have never seen a baby before. Apparently, I’m hot stuff. I’ve been passed around from person to person more than a church donation basket. It’s not so bad—except when I get a whiff of some horrendous breath. If you’re holding me, and I start crying, please pop a mint or pass me to the next pair of open arms.

There are two great things about being a newborn. First, I have very limited responsibility. Right now, my job is to eat, sleep, poop, pee and look adorable, all of which I accomplish like a true professional. Second, almost everyone who visits brings new baby gifts. If I’d known about the gift thing, I might have arrived on time instead of two weeks past Mom’s due date. I’m just glad she didn’t name me some of the things she was calling me for those couple of weeks. But I digress. Back to the baby gifts.

Believe it or not, we newbies do have some preferences. For starters, you should know that bigger is not necessarily better. Some people walked in here the other day with a four-foot-tall, stuffed teddy bear. It may look cute to you, but to me it looks like Godzilla. And you have to know I won’t be playing with it for years, if ever.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like cuddly stuff. I absolutely do. Little lambs, bears, elephants, bunnies and piggies are nice, as long as they’re small enough for my tiny paws. And I love those baby-sized blankies with funny heads on them. The blankies feel so soft against my face, and I can almost fit the head in my mouth. I do have fun trying!

Oh, and I also like baby gift baskets filled with lots of stuff. Usually, there’s stuff for me to play with, stuff for me to wear, and stuff Mommy knows how to use that I get in the end anyway. (I think it’s called diaper cream.) You can’t go wrong with a gift basket. Like they say about chocolate, if a little is good, a lot is better.

Last, but not least, I really like getting personalized presents—blankets, clothes, t-shirts, toys, whatever. There are a couple of other small people who apparently stay here, too, and I want to make sure they know what belongs to me. I figure if something’s got my name on it, they won’t bother it. I’m assuming they can read, but I’m not sure. Of course, they’re assuming I can’t write. Oh, well.

Wait. Just one more thing. You don’t have to be locked into the “blue for boys” and “pink for girls” thing. Sure, we like for people to be clear about our gender, especially when we’re in the bald stage. It’s even hard for me to tell the difference. But yellow’s nice, and so is green and chocolate-brown and white and red. In fact, every day I see more and more colors that would look spectacular on me. That’s it. I think we’re good to go. I know I am, so if you’ll please excuse me. Mom, get a diaper ready!