- The expressions that appear on a baby’s face are so varied and multifaceted that I’ve often wondered of my own infant, what is she thinking? My questions are finally being answered as I delve deeper into her world. The post that follows contains excerpts from a diary I found stuffed under the crib mattress (along with half a peanut butter sandwich and my missing nail file).
-
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe I am even capable to make this entry, for I am currently intoxicated by the glow of twinkling, colored lights. The Parentals have surprised me by taking one of those green things from outside and have placed it in our living room. As if that weren’t enough, then they decided to decorate it with glittery toys for my amusement. The cruel irony is their insistence on yelling “No” each time I attempt to show my appreciation by ripping a toy free. Their torture tactics sometimes make me wonder if they brought me into this world for their own sadistic pleasures. I have decided that tonight, while they are engrossed with their tiny, handheld light boxes, I shall liberate the shiny, red glass ball that they have assumed is out of my reach. I shall see if it tastes as beautiful as it appears.
Dear Diary,
I have eagerly anticipated when I could break away from snuggles with The Mommy (or as I call her affectionately, Milk) to tell you of my miraculous discovery. Imagine my delight this morning when in my exploration under the table I discovered something magical. It seems that under The Mean One’s booster seat there is a hidden treasure of many types of yum-yums. I have not figured out why she places them there, and I was honestly a little hesitant to take my first bite for fear that I would fall right into The Mean One’s trap of death by poisoning. (She wants The Mommy all to herself!) But alas, I am only human, and due to my weakness for half-melted animal crackers covered in hair, I tasted of the bounty. I plan to return after this entry and sample the dried gummy bear next. I know it will be all I have dreamed it to be.
Dear Diary,
The Mommy continues to taunt me with shiny pull-strings that she puts in her ears. Every day. Every day she puts a new, exciting, different dangly thing on her ear, yet every day she tells me “No” I can’t play with it! I have decided I do not like this “No” word. Its evil can only compare to the other bad word, “Nap.” I can almost see her laughing on the inside, celebrating my disappointment in not being able to pull the pretty play-thing from her ear. I cannot understand why she insists on denying me even such a small pleasure as that. Her behavior, and that of The Daddy continue to vex me. If it were not for The Milk, I might be more cross. Also, when she screams in pain after I jerk on the ear bobber, I feel a small dose of retribution that calms my anger.
Dear Diary,
She did it again. The Mommy tried to put me to sleep. She is like a broken record, always trying to subject me to The Nap. My ancestors would be proud for today I fought a valiant fight on the battleground of the rocker. She is cunning, no doubt, enlisting the help of her Milk Makers to lull me to the icy dreamland. At one point I know we both thought I would succumb, but I can proudly tell you my friend that I did not. Now I must get to work removing the cloth bags they call socks so I may inspect my toes. You never can be sure if one has gone missing…
Dear Diary,
I need your help. I am so tired. Exhausted. I fear I will be unable to keep my eyes from closing. I have tried screaming, making strange noises with my tongue, and banging my head, but it seems all in vain. I am starting to wonder what that woman, The Mommy, put in my cereal, what sedative is dragging me into slumber. I must know! Sleepy. I must cry. No, she will rock me if I cry! If I sleep, if I surrender to The Nap, I fear the things I may miss. The magical cartoon people in the picture box may sing my favorite song while I am gone. I will try and eat the Qtip I found in the bathroom trash. I think this will help.
Dear Diary,
I am determined to figure out what the fascination is with the seat in the bathroom. Everyone seems to want to go and sit on it. It also appears to be the only place The Parentals attempt to be by themselves. What happens when they shut the door?! The suspense is killing me. They ignore my plea to enter even as I curl my little fingers under the door in a begging gesture. I am once again reminded of their cruel treatment to me, denying me the joy I seek. Last night while The Mommy was distracted by antics of The Mean One, I attempted further exploration. I successfully lifted the lid of this magical seat half expecting to find some reward of cheese puff snacks or at least some of those yogurt bites I like, but alas, only a bowl of water awaited me. Did I probe further you ask? Of course. Don’t be daft. Despite possible dangers lurking within the porcelain well I promptly stuck my hand inside and gave it a little splash. Then naturally I tasted it. Curses. It was simply water inside. What is their fascination?! Do they fill it with juice after they force me into The Nap? I shall ponder this conundrum. I will not rest until the mystery is solved, no matter the tactics Ole Milk Bags tries.
Dear Diary,
I have found a kindred spirit amongst all the confusion of this strange world. I have found true understanding and empathy in my sister. No, I’m not speaking of The Mean One. I keep one eye open at all times around that one lest she try to cuddle my face with a stuffed animal a little too aggressively. She is a thorn in my side, her main mission to rob me of space on The Mommy’s lap. No, I have found my true sister to be the furry one outside. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she too is denied pleasure. While I don’t sleep outside in a little house as she is forced to do, I’ve told you of the numerous cruel tortures I endure daily. We seem to understand each other in a way The Parentals will never get, as if our shared mistreatment in life has forged a bond no sword can sever. Her grin and eagerly moving tail let me know she places me above all others before her slobbery kiss is even bestowed upon my face. (Finally someone who kisses with an open mouth and drool like myself!) I point outside requesting of The Mommy to allow a visit to my furry sibling, but she pretends she cannot understand my coos. Is The Furry One the only family member who understands me?! Her deep, sad eyes say yes. She has also shared with me that the liquid in the bathroom seat is indeed divine. I shall try another taste tonight…
- While the writing is my own, I would like to give creative credit for this post to an idea/thought my sister-in-law gave me yesterday. She is a new mom to a newborn baby girl. I think she should check under her own infant’s crib mattress just in case.
That is all 🙂