Note: Took long enough, huh? Should be some more after this, at various stages in Des's life.
His grandson is born healthy, happy, and stuck with a somewhat silly name but he doesn't say anything because he picked it.
When he holds Desmond, he sees familiar features that will soon form the older he grows, but the child is completely oblivious to all of this. Desmond is a baby still and small and soft and warm and he smiles up at him, reaching out with tiny starfish fingers to grasp at his own.
His daughter is out, his (slightly less wretched than before) son-in-law with her, after he decides to be a good grandfather and play the watchful caretaker for the day. Desmond is much easier to handle than his mother was, possibly because he's far more easily amused and not nearly as finicky.
He's seated on a plush rug in a room that would otherwise be completely barren if not for the surplus of baby toys littering the floor, winding up some silly doll (his daughter said it was a dog but it certainly doesn't look like a dog) that sings or something along those lines. Desmond squeals in delight when a familiar, if slightly off key tune emanates from the mechanism hidden within the doll, reaching out with tiny fingers to grab it.
He's too small to stand on his own yet, but La Volpe catches him trying to pull himself with his playthings, using them as a crutch to stand up straight on his young feet. If Desmond falls, La Volpe does not instantly rush to sit him up straight. Instead he watches for a moment, filing away the things Desmond does now to play them back in his mind later. Of course, he's just a baby still and La Volpe does not have any set expectations, but he cannot help but smile when the baby finally stands on his own two tiny feet without the help of his toys.
La Volpe loves his grandson, and lavishes all sorts of attention and gifts upon him. The familiarity he feels is always a niggling thought at the back of his mind, but he doesn't pay much attention to it. It's simply the deja vu seeing the after-image of his daughter as an infant again, he thinks, with Desmond inheriting her dark skin and dark hair. Facial feature wise, he cannot quite judge where Desmond will end up. He is not terribly accustomed to seeing familiarities within such a short span of time.
"You're going to be a handsome boy when you grow older." He muses with a sly smile. The baby gurgles happily at him, not understanding the words but garnering the positive feeling, reaching out and gesturing for grandpa to pick him up.
He loves his daughter, but now he stays for his grandson.