She is only 20 inches long and weighs 8 lbs. (I’ve already encouraged her to lay off the trans fats.) And she is also only an hour and 45 minutes old.

That said, she immediately becomes the most intelligent and beautiful member on the CT crew… by a long, long shot.

Samantha Benton went through an intense 9-month interview process. Yes, she’s related to my sidekick/photographer/co-producer/friend and dog lover, Andy Benton, but we did not take that into consideration. Though it is a bonus because we won’t have to drive to another location to pick her up for our shoots.

Samantha was recommended to us by one Kristie Benton… a woman with questionable judgment. (Just like my wife, she willingly married a completely neurotic perfectionist nutjob. While that activity is not illegal in at least 43 states, it does make one wonder about her sanity.)

To Kristie’s credit, and entirely negating her lack of marital judgment, she makes fantastically pretty babies… who have very chubby necks. Seriously. Samantha’s neck looks like two pounds of sweet, fluffy cookie dough.

As you know, Andy looks like a saltine. So we’ll guess the sweet-as-a-cookie part is Kristie.

Andy is definitely a cracker. Look in the dictionary under cracker, there he is… just to the right of the photo ofC Mayor Pat McCrory. Though (and this will surprise all of you) Andy has dance moves that belie this label. You can’t underestimate the man. He’s tall and skinny, but a surprisingly deep soul with interests uncommon to the average honky. Cracker? Yes. But with the right soup he’ll shock you.

I have no idea what that last paragraph means.

Anyway, Andy and I get attention by being loud and obvious. Samantha will balance us out because she commands attention with very adorable signs and moans.

Sometimes silence speaks louder than, well, loud mouths. (And the truth is I only lumped Andy into the “loud mouth” category so I wouldn’t feel so all alone there. Andy’s fairly pithy with his sarcasm. I’m what you might call a “practicing sarcastic.” I’m working at trying to be funny and sometimes it takes me a few times to get it right. And other times I never quite get there.)

There is joy in Bentonville tonight. (And not Bentonville, Arkansas, the home of Wal-Mart). This is a fictional location where I’ve simply added the word “ville” to Andy’s last name. Try it with your last name. Though some names sound best with a “town” or a “burg” or “boro” as an ending. Choose whichever one sounds best to you.
I have no idea what that last paragraph means, Pt 2.

Where was I? Oh… Andy and Kristie have entered a new and wonderful phase in life where they will be perpetually overwhelmed and grateful… and broke and sleepy.
But what else is there but our kids? When they laugh it’s like a peek into heaven. When they projectile vomit it’s like you brought home “Rosemary’s Baby.”

I think children are God in the flesh. They’re the best example we have of the “everything” for which we always search.

I’ve said this before, “Nothing else really matters on this planet.” And now that I’ve quoted myself, I can put this rambling journal to a merciful end.

But not before I say congratulations to our friends Andy and Kristie. You can tell from the totally surprising second they got pregnant, they would make wonderful parents. (Though on a side note, to all you ladies who want to tell your husband the great unplanned news that you’re unexpectedly pregnant: Make sure he’s not driving a car with me in the passenger seat. Seriously. Andy almost killed us when Kristie broke the news to him while he was trying to merge onto I-77. He pulled over and I drove the rest of the way as Andy muttered over and over, “Wow!”)

Okay, let the projectile vomit begin!

Don’t forget to stop and smell the people,

Mike Redding