My little baby-man, P, is 9 months old. I know all parents are biased, but I swear he is the cutest little booger in the world (with the exception of his older brother, G). I love babies at this age simply because they are really turning into little people and becoming less like helpless blobs of cuteness. P is able to convey his emotions so well: he laughs, he cries, he babbles, he squeals when he’s excited, he shows a look of intense concentration when something holds his interest, he gets all smiley and spastically slaps at his older brother whenever G plays with him, and he looks confused when I hide things from him. As I played with him yesterday and this morning, I really started to wonder, “What does he think about? What goes through that little baby brain?” I’m assuming that if he is anything like his mama his thoughts are varied, random, and, if he could, he would sooooooooo love to speak his mind. So, applying this reasoning, I intend to convey P’s thoughts yesterday during all the things we did.
8:00 am: “Good morning little man! Shall we get up and have a ba-ba?” Mama, where have you been? I’ve been crying for a good five minutes. Really? You can’t make a bottle any faster? And do you even have to ask if I want a ba-ba? Hell yeah I want my ba-ba! I want my milkys!!!
8:05 am: “My goodness you’re a hungry little boy!” *chug, chug, gulp, suck, suck, slurp, gulp* Mmmmmmmmmmmmm, milkys. *chug, chug, gulp, suck, suck, slurp, gulp*
8:15 am: “OK, let’s get you burped! Time to ride the burping pony!” *put P on my knee and bounce him* Mama, why on earth do you insist on making me ride the burping pony after every ba-ba? I am fine. See. No burp. I don’t want to bounce. I feel fine. *BUUUUUUUUUURP* Oh, wow. I totally don’t know where that came from. ‘Scooze me.
8:20 am: “Let’s change your didy and get you dressed, mama’s handsome little man!” Oh, oh, I hope she sings that song that makes me smile. Please, please, please sing that song! You know, the one with my nickname. Oh, please, please! *singing* “Teeny tiny Tinky Man, ba donk a donk a donk a, love you love you, Baby Man! Ba donk a donk a donk a donk a!” Ahhhhhhhh! Yes, that one! I love this song. I have to dance now. *smiling and bouncing around* Hell yeah! I’m a Teeny Tiny Tinky Man! ba donk a donk a donk a! She loves me loves me her Baby Man! Ba donk a donk a donk a donk a!
8:22 am: “Wow! Look at that diaper full of tee-tee!” OK, Mama, seriously? You say this every damn morning. I pee in my didy so of course there is going to be tee tee in it. Oh my God! Look! Here’s that little thing again! *playing with his wee-wee* What is that? Another finger? Ha, this is so cool. No, Mama, don’t wipe me. I like being in the buff. No, it’s cold. Stop it you vile woman! Why in the hell are you grabbing my feet and pulling my ass up in the air? Seriously? And now another didy. Wonderful. And clothes now. Crap. I’m telling you right now that if you put socks on me I’m just going to take them right off. I will. Just watch me.
8:26 am: “Shall we go look at that lady and that baby in the mirror? I wonder if they’re there and dressed like us again?” OMG, this is the creepiest shit in the world. Every single day there is a lady that looks like Mama and a short man that looks like me, and they do nothing but stare at us. AAAAAUGH! They’re here again! Where do you come from? What is it you want? Why do you look confused, little man? I’m confused. Not you. *sneeze* And now you sneezed too? What in the hell? And why is your mama dressed like my mama? This is just too much.
8:30 am: “Play time! Sit on your blanket and play!” Good morning, toys! Roll call. Telephone? Check. Oddly shaped knobby ball that is brightly colored? Check. Electric guitar? Check. Car Keys? Check. Book? Check. Musical tea pot? Check? Thing I like to chew on? Check. Piano? Check. Laptop? Check. Assorted stuffed things? Check. We’re all here and accounted for. Commencing playtime.
9:30 am: “My goodness you’ve been playing a long time! Want to play with mama now?” Hell yeah I want to play with Mama now! *covering my face with my hands* “Where’s Mama?” What the? She was just here. Where did she go? “Peek-a-boo!” There she is! How did she do that? LOL LOL LOL! Wait! She turned invisible again! Where did she go? Bahahahahahahahaha, there she is! Good one, Mama. Do the magic trick again! She’s gone! Wait for it….wait for it…..Bahahahahahahahahahaha, there she is! This “peek-a-boo” must be the magical incantation that makes her reappear! She’s gone again! LOL LOL LOL. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! There she is! Hi, Mama! Gone again! I want to clap my hands so bad, but I don’t know how! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! She’s back! LOL LOL LOL LOL. And I just peed my pants.
10:00 am: “Want to sit next to Mama on the couch? Look! Here’s a newspaper!” Excellent! The Manchester Star-Mercury has arrived! Let’s get caught up with the news. *crinkle, crinkle, ruffle, ruffle* The news feels good this week. It’s making good noise. *ruffle, ruffle, bwap, bwap, bwap* OMG, my hands have turned black. Neat-o! I shouldn’t squander this opportunity to make little hand prints on the white couch. “Oh, honey, you’ve got ink stains all over the couch!” I know, Mama, aren’t they beautiful? I can’t believe I made this. It looks almost as good as what Brother brings home from kindergarten. Can we please put the couch up on the fridge? Please?
10:30 am: Mama, mama! Can I have some milkys? I’m hungry. Mama! Milkys! Go in the kitchen. “Wow! You sure are talkative! Listen to all of your sweet baby sounds!” Mama, you’re not paying attention. I want some milkys. Quit smiling and talking to me. I’m asking for milkys. No, I’m not a cutie-pie! I’m hungry you jackass! Get. Me. A. Ba-Ba. NOW. *starting to cry* “Aw, what’s wrong little man? Have you pooped? Let me sniff your butt.” Mama, no. Don’t sniff my butt. Really. My butt is fine. It’s my tummy. But some milkys in my tummy, for the love of God. “No poopies! Are you hungry? Wow, I didn’t realize it was ba-ba time! Let Mama go make you some milkys.” *crying uncontrollably* Finally you stupid woman. Amble on into the kitchen and make me some milkys. I’m so hungry I’m going to die. Why me? Why me? It’s so damn hard to be a baby. Nobody understands this! It is so freaking hard to be a baby. My tummy is so empty, and all I want is some milkys! Do people listen when I talk? Noooooooooooooooo. They smile at me, coo like total assholes, and sniff my butt. Really? I struggle day in and day out to sit up, grab things, taste things, grow teeth, and now I have to starve? *crying louder* Mama, you want to hurry it up? I’m gonna have my first birthday before you make that damn ba-ba. Ohhhhh, what is that shiny thing? I rather like that shiny thing. What is this? It sparkles. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Wow. “Alright, Tinky, let’s put Brother’s Hot Wheels down and have a ba-ba.” Farewell, shiny thing. I hope to play with you again sometime.
11:00 am: No, Mama, I don’t want to take a nap. I don’t care what you say. No, please don’t put me down. I don’t to lay here by myself. I’m not tired, honest. I want to stay……wif……you………..mama………zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
3:00 pm: What? Who? Where am I? Oh, I’m in the bed. Where’s Mama? And Brother? And Daddy? Oooooooh, there’s my feet! How ya’ doing guys? I could chew on you guys all day long.
3:30 pm: At least Mama fed and changed me in a timely fashion. She’s getting better at this stuff. Hell yeah, it’s Exersaucer time!
5:00 pm: “C’mon, Tinky! It’s time to Skype with Na-Na and Paw-Paw!” Huh? What does that mean? Oh, great. I remember this. I get to sit here in front of the computer while the little man and woman that live inside talk stupid to me. I don’t know why Mama makes me look at these people everyday. Look at that man! He doesn’t even know my name; he calls me Wee-Man! My name is Tinky you stupid asshat. And there goes the woman singing about some little spider. Same shit, different day. It is so hard to be a baby.
5:30 pm: Oh my tummy hurts. Not again. My tummy hurts everyday. I’ve got to push and grunt and it’ll feel better. Push and grunt. OK, a little better. Push and grunt. *faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaart* Oh, yeah, now that’s what I’m talking about. Much better. God. Why is it everytime the tummy ache goes away I smell something gross? Ugh. It’s smells like a trash can. Ewwwww.
5:45 pm: “Whew, something stinks! Is it you, Tinky?” Something does stink, but I resent you accusing me of being stinky, Mama. That hurts my feelings. What? Why are you sniffing my butt again? What does that accomplish? Great, now she’s changing my diaper. Oh, God, Mama, the smell has gotten worse since you got me undressed. What is that? It’s awful. I’m about to gag. And here goes my ass up in the air again. At least the smell is going away. Ah, I can breathe again. I wish I could figure out where the stinky smell comes from. Maybe Mama could cast that “Peek-A-Boo!” spell on it and make it go away.
6:00 pm: “Sit here in the swing while Mama cooks dinner, ok my sweetheart?” OK, Mama. I do love a good swing. Look at my Mama! I do love her. She’s in the kitchen working hard to make me and Brother something yummy to eat. She gets things out of that cold box then makes them hot on that square black box. I wonder if all Mamas know magic or if it’s just mine. Wow. *sniff* That smells so good. What is that? It’s wonderful! She’s telling brother dinner is ready! Wow, wow, wow, I can’t wait to sink my two teeth and gums into whatever that is. Yes, Mama, let’s get in the highchair. I’m ready. I’m ready. Just stick it in my mouth, Mama. My mouth is open. Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! *cough, gag, sputter* What. In. The. Fuck. What did you just give me? Oh, it’s awful. Ugh, I see it on the spoon, Mama! It’s green! What is it? “C’mon sweetheart, it’s spinach and apples! Here comes the train! Choo-choo!” No, Mama. Not the train. I like the train. I don’t want that green shit, but it is my duty to let the train into the station. *gag* Mama, this train tastes awful. Please don’t make me eat more. Oh, God, another train. *gag* This is so not fair. I don’t see Brother fighting off a train full of green crap. *mmmmurph* This is awful. Why do her cooking smells smell so good and the food taste so bad? I give up.
7:30 pm: “Bath time, Tinky! Let’s get you naked!!” Woo-hoo! It’s bath night! I loooooooooooooove bath time. Faster, Mama, undress me faster. Take me to the bathroom! Hurry! Get me in the water box! *splash splash splash* This is the most awesome thing in the whole wide world. What is this stuff? It’s clear, it’s hot, if I hit it with my hand it flies through the air, and Mama rubs it on me. Brother! Come look at me! I’m swimming! *splash splash*
8:30 pm: Ah, another ba-ba full of milkys. *suck suck grunt gulp* This stuff is awesome. I’m so relaxed. All done, Mama! Why is she picking me up and jostling me around? What the…..oh, I remember this. I love laying on Mama’s chest while she rubs my back and sings to me. She is so warm and squishy and she smells good. Nobody else smells like my Mama. Oh, now she’s scratching my head. Oooooooooooooooh, Mama. I love you. I could lay here forever. Will you pat my bum now like you usually do? I love being snuggled tight and having my bum patted. Mama, you are………so…….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.