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bring
up my baby
by JILL RAWLINGS
■ It was funny, Janet Leigh reflected, sitting in the sun a few weeks before the baby was born — funny the way she hadn't thought of a name for the baby. She and Tony just referred to it as It, or sometimes he, or sometimes she. It was proof that neither of them really cared whether it was a boy or a girl. She was sure she didn't, and Tony was too happy about becoming a father to care one way or the other. If it was a boy, she thought, she'd be all right as a mother. She'd been a tomboy herself, and could always substitute when Tony was working. She wondered if she could still throw a curve ball.
He would — she would — it was so awkward not having a name ready. But then neither of them wanted a name right away. It would be like talking about a part in a picture before you really knew you had it. She supposed they'd end up with a Biblical name. They were substantial names, and not frilly, and they had worn extremely well through the ages. Frilly! She laughed, as her thoughts moved to lace and polka-dots.
Clothes would be their weak point, as parents, all right, even if it was a boy. She remembered the father and son she had seen in that men's shop, and how they had walked out wearing identical gray flannel suits. That would be Tony, with his mania for clothes. He'd have a ball buying clothes for a son. And if it was a girl, what things she would have! That would be her own department, the ruffles and ribbons. But they mustn't spoil this child. To give children nice clothes was one thing, but to lavish them was another. This baby must grow up knowing the value of a dollar and that life, while secure, is not necessarily, a bed of roses. It would be so hard to find the middle road.
When she was a little girl she had felt the lack of clothes. She loved them so and never felt she had enough. Not like the other kids in school. Her own daughter must never feel that lack, but then again, she must learn that nice things don't grow on trees. You must work for them, you must deserve them. Well, maybe the child would inherit her own money sense. When she was only twelve and was given money at Christmas, she had managed to wait until the January sales before she went shopping. She figured that was pretty unusual for a child of twelve. And it had always been clothes. She remembered the time she was seven or eight and had won a contest as a drum majorette. She was to receive a prize and they had wanted to get her a bracelet or a ring, something that would last as a memento. But she had been wanting a raincoat and had insisted that's what her prize must be. Let's see, it had been green plaid, and there had been a hat to match. And then when she was older she had worked in the five-and-ten after school and on holidays. Yes, she'd had sense about money, all right. But what if the child inherited Tony's genius for spending? Tony always wanted to buy the world for everyone he loved. (Continued on page 70)
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