Small Potato

Some personal news

Last week, my daughter Zoe was born, and I couldn’t be happier.

I hesitated before announcing this on Small Potatoes. I’ve written here before about personal matters—how my parents met, say, or the time an online stalker threatened to murder me in Shanghai—but this feels different. It’s not in the service of some larger point. It’s just personal news.

Still, I decided to go ahead. Part of what nudged me in this direction is that some of my favorite writers on Substack have written beautifully about being new fathers—Scott Alexander (for instance, here), Freddie deBoer (for instance, here), and Derek Thompson (here). I’ve liked reading these pieces, and I’ve enjoyed the baby pictures too, so perhaps I can contribute something to that small genre.

This isn’t going to become a parenting Substack. But I do often write about child development—about the nature-nurture debate, parental love, and tantrums, for instance—and there may be something interesting in seeing how these ideas hold up when brought to bear on one very real child. I might even return, at some point, to the question I asked here and consider whether Zoe’s first year of life is, on balance, a happy one.

I’ll add that I’m not merely a dad; I’m an Old Dad. I won’t trouble you with my exact age (if you’re curious, look it up, you nosy perv), but I had my two sons when I was much younger. I loved being a father then, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to love it now, but this is plainly going to be different. Thinking about those differences—and what they tell us about aging, mortality, memory, and love—may make for a post or two down the line.

There’s another reason to share this here: I feel close to my readers. I like the comments my posts get (well, most of them), and I’ve enjoyed meeting many of you in the Zoom sessions for paid subscribers. So it seems right to share some good news.

Also, my wife surprised me with a “new dad” gift: a onesie for Zoe that doubles as a present for me. And so here she is—my heart outside of my body.