When one has a primarily home-bound existence, the arrival of the mail can be a big deal. There is the satisfying thunk of letters and Gymboree inserts (that corporation is relentless) hitting the metal base of the mail slot to the right of our door and the police knock of the mail carrier who is dropping off a package.

It is one thing to exist, it is another to get mail addressed to your name. And Charlotte Ann has been raking it in the first week-and-a-half of her life. She is not yet a clothes horse, but I'm glad she has the largest closet in the house.



She has already grown out of her first hat, which when we purchase a baby book, will be duly noted among her myriad accomplishments. Those include her first joke -- a smile followed by a poop -- and the ability to name 12 of the state capitals. I'm kidding, she knows 25.

The second outfit featured today is an ensemble from the pink collection. We are awash in pink from bubblegum to hot, and I'm happy to report that she looks cute in pink. We are calling this photo -- contentment.

There is a totem pole in any given house that ranks the priority of pets. This totem pole was simple to understand when Kate and I only had Houdini. The once-svelte, now plus-sized model of a cat, ruled our North End apartment in Boston. She sat atop the totem pole, prior to eating it.

Houdini even maintained her status as top pet (how is that not a reality show featuring pets that live in a house together and compete in daily challenges?) when Charlie the dog arrived after we moved to Kansas City, MO. It helped that she outweighed Charlie the puppy and that had a slight edge in intelligence -- recently locking herself in our closet notwithstanding.

But the totem pole has been reshaped again with the arrival of Charlotte the baby. Houdini has lost her top spot and Charlie has been relegated to the bottom. In fact, for all intents and purposes we are now operating with two completely separate totem poles, but since we value efficiency and are now on a budget to save the $700,000 it will cost to send Charlotte to Brown University -- one virtual totem pole will do.

But this week has been partly about introducing our pets to their new child overlord. Houdini was first, given her elevated stature and resemblance to the oversized matriarchs that ruled primitive societies.



Houdini offered up the reaction that one would expect of a feline expecting to be in charge. Kate sat down on my office chair and stroked the side of the animal that lay covering half of my desk. Houdini briefly sniffed the new person in Kate's arms, before rubbing her head and nose against our swaddled baby. This was repeated twice. Now that Houdini has satisfactorily claimed Charlotte -- she has moved to a policy of nonviolent direct action -- passively ignoring her. Houdini continues to sleep on Kate's head, unwilling to recognize the winds of change.



As for Charlie the dog, her introduction was more measured. After some time in the backyard, Charlie was quarantined in the exercise room. A dance of sniffing, sitting, and treating occurred as Charlie was allowed to smell Charlotte over and through a baby gate. About 20 minutes later, we let her into the living room. At the end of the evening, the following scene played out. Moments after this, baby and dog were fast asleep on either side of me. Charlie is apparently just glad to be picked for the game, even if she is being picked last. She will however eat a red, rubber kickball if given the opportunity.

We were the first of 11 families to be discharged from the maternity ward this past Saturday. Charlotte is wearing what we have affectionately come to refer to as the "Pope Hat." Kate would later discover that this is a hat sized for three-to-six-month olds. Despite our child's prodigious size, her head is not quite in that range just yet.