Week 33

Dear Zayde,


This week I learned how to babble.  It started with the mmm sound, which I employed at first to show my annoyance and frustration.  When my parents showed an interest in this consonant sound, I decided to try a few others.  So far, I have been practicing buh, guh, and wuh, but my favorite is still muh.  Mommy seems particularly pleased with that last one, but she keeps repeating "dadada" to me for some reason.

As you saw on the boat, I've been trying REALLY hard to crawl.  I have learned to get myself propped up on my hands and knees and to rock back and forth a little, but I can't figure out how this will lead to forward movement.  I am quite good at staying in "plank pose" and also launching into a squat from a sitting position and then returning to my tushie, but I'm not sure how those will help me, either.  What I do know for sure is that my parents have been placing my toys just out of reach and sometimes all the way on the other side of my play mat.  Do they not realize how hard it is to pick up my bunny when it's more than an arm's length away?  I think they're getting careless.  Or sadistic.

Speaking of being sadistic, this week I learned what a swim instructor does for a living.  She arrives at the house in a bathing suit, smiles and makes polite conversation, joins Mommy and me in the pool, and then she shows her true colors.  The floating and bobbing part isn't so bad; it's the moment that she begins to sing "Ring Around the Rosie" that I know I'm in for a shock.  Did you know that there's an UNDERwater?  It's like being in the womb, but it's much colder and brighter, and a baby can't breathe down there.  I was smart and kept my mouth closed for those terrifying two seconds, but once I emerged into the life-giving fresh air, I let it be known (to the swim instructor, to Mommy, and to the entire neighborhood) that I was completely unsatisfied with my swim lesson and considered the whole morning ruined.  That was on Tuesday.  On Thursday, despite my frank conversation with Mommy, the swim instructor returned.  This time, I shared my feelings about the situation for the duration of the lesson.  That's right; I screamed for 25 minutes while we practiced floating, sitting on the side of the pool, kicking toward Mommy, and - inevitably - getting dunked.  I hope Mommy got the hint, but I am prepared to repeat my vocal protest if and when the instructor returns.

This week I learned what a head cold is.  Suffice it to say, it's like stuffing a whole lot of misery into my nose and letting it slowly ooze out.  When Mommy wipes it off my face, she calls it mucus, which seems like an appropriate term for something so disgusting.  To add insult to injury, this week Mommy and Daddy have been forcing me to sit in the bathroom while they run the hot water in the shower.  This process makes the misery in my nose softer and more likely to drip.  If it isn't coming out fast enough for them, my parents then hold me down and drop saline into my poor nostrils.  This must be what is referred to as Chinese Water Torture.  If it is not, it should be.  The worst part - and this is how I know my parents are trying to make me run away - is when they shove that bulb syringe into my nose and forcefully suck out the mucus.  It's an outrage!  Sure, I can breathe better after the ordeal, but I am not a firm believer in "the end justifies the means," especially when the means are so mean!  

Don't worry, though: the tables have turned.  This week I learned that I can share.  For my first stab at giving back and spreading the love, I gave Mommy my cold.  She doesn't seem as grateful as I expected.  This might sway me from sharing in the future, but in the meantime, I'm going to figure out how I can shove that bulb syringe up Mommy's nose.


Cough, cough,
Zelda