Lucy

There's a baby named Lucy who lives on the UWS.  I had last seen her mom when she was four months pregnant. I finally met baby Lucy at a barbecue in Brooklyn.  Lucy was eleven months at the time.  One parent Irish and the other Japanese, she was a beautiful child.  Her plump rolls and dimples made her even more darling.

I had heard from friends that this baby was absolutely head over heels in love with herself.  Skeptical of their assessment, I sought evidence.  I plopped Lucy in front of a full length mirror.  Sure enough, when she looked up and caught a glimpse of herself, she smiled widely and crawled up to the mirror, never once looking away.  She pulled herself up and stared intensely at her giggling face.  They were right: girlfriend could not get enough of her own reflection.  She was smitten.  I still didn't believe it, so I pulled her away to play elsewhere.  When we returned to the mirror a half hour later, I tried again.  And there she went off again, wholly consumed by her pretty little face.

For this hilarious habit, someone cleverly dubbed her Narcy Lucy.  nar'-see loo'-see.  I love it.

Little Miss Narcy Lucy, as you pass through your id and ego phases, may you always find yourself as attractive and enamoring as you did that summer afternoon so long ago.  Many girls don't find themselves very beautiful by the time they reach adulthood, but you, something tells me that you'll always see your own beauty.  Little girl, it seems as though you came out of the womb knowing what's up.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.  Nothin' at all.