Hi again, folks. It’s me, your favorite pint-sized blogger. FINE, MOMMY. Your favorite pint-sized guest blogger. Whatever. I’m here to give you the REAL story about what goes on in our family. Put on your seat belts.
Now, let’s see, where did I leave off last week? Oh, yes. It was nearly lunch time and my big brother was usurping MY spot in Mommy’s lap. Don’t panic, people. I got him out of there. I gave Daddy a meaningful look . . . while screeching like a banshee. Daddy understood. He looked at the big kid square in the eye and said, “As you know, Jacob, Mommy’s lap is just for Emma. Not you. GET UP!” Jacob seemed surprisingly happy about all this. (Mommy claims that what Daddy actually said was, “Lunch time! Go wash your hands, Jacob.” Whatever. I’m willing to agree to disagree.)
12:00pm. Ah, lunch time. There’s nothing a girl likes more than being put in her highchair for lunch. And seeing a yummy turkey, tomato and avocado sandwich on each plate. And then being served a big bowl of mush. Seriously people? SERIOUSLY? I realize I only have four sets of opposing teeth but let’s be reasonable. THIS IS NOT THE ONLY OPTION. Since you Einsteins clearly can’t come up with anything more appetizing for me, here are just a few suggestions:
*caviar on a wafer with a dollop of cream and razor thin slice of smoked salmon
*a piece of fresh multigrain bread with a schmear of goat cheese, drizzled with blackberry jam (and cut into pea-sized pieces, of course)
*some vegetarian sushi- avocado, oshinko, cucumber, surprise me!- just be sure to cut it into 16ths
Oh, hells. I’ll eat the mush. But don’t think I’m going to be happy about it. That’s right, Mommy, I’m looking at you. And. Your. Sandwich.
Emma (pointing to Mommy’s plate): Dat. Dat. DAT.
12:18pm. Finally out of the high chair. Time to stretch my legs while the big kid watches a short video. What to do. What. To. Do.
12:19pm. Mommy, did you leave the tissue box on the end table again? My work here is never done. Gotta take a tissue. (Swiff!) Now gotta waddle over to the kitchen. (Waddle, waddle, waddle, waddle.) Okay, I’m in the kitchen. What did I come in here for? OH, LIKE YOU’VE NEVER HAD A SENIOR MOMENT. Oh, right. Tissue. Gotta prrrrrry open the lid to the garbage pail. And watch the tissue make it’s graceful descent to the bottom of the pail. Okay, now back to the tissue box. (Waddle, waddle, waddle, waddle.) What WOULD these people do without me?
Mommy: Emma. We’re all done taking tissues. All done, Emma.
(Brief pause. I look at Mommy.) Mommy, your lips say, “All done” but your eyes say “More, MORE!” (I grab two fistfuls of tissues and start waddling– quickly– back to the garbage pail.)
1:00pm. Mommy tells the big kid that it’s time to go upstairs and take a nap. The big kid is not pleased.
Jacob: Noooooooo, Mommy. I’m not tired. I don’t need to nap. Emma’s not napping.
WELL THANK YOU, KARMA. Look, kid, you take Emma’s spot on Mommy’s lap and this is what happens: karma comes back and makes you take a nap. HA!
Mommy: Emma had a nap this morning. She’ll take another one soon.
WOAH, NELLY. Let’s not go crazy here, Mommy. Let’s just focus on the big kid. I think we can all agree that he needs to nap. While I play with his toys.
1:05pm. The big kid goes upstairs with Mommy. For some reason, this is the only time of the day that he moves slowly. Weird.
1:06pm. Now where is that tissue box?
Daddy: Emma-chan. DOZO.
Daddy just gave me a toy. As I mentioned last week, he speaks to me in Japanese. I think “dozo” is Japanese shorthand for “Daddy’s giving you something, Bozo” but don’t quote me on that. Anyhoo, now I’m supposed to give it back to him so he can say . . .
Daddy: Arigato, Emma-chan!
Then he gives the toy right back to me and says . . .
It’s a lot of work keeping these people entertained. I’m just going to go ahead and say it– sometimes they’re a bit needy.
1:30pm. Feeling a little vulnerable again. Mommy is still upstairs with the big kid. Napping? Having fun without me? WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE? At least Daddy is still down here playing with me. But every now and then he checks his phone. Expecting a text from another baby, Daddy? HMM? What’s going on? Someone hold me. Oh thanks, Daddy. We’re going upstairs? Awesome. Wanna play with the paper on Mommy’s desk? She loves the way I arrange it on the floor. Why are we heading towards my room? There aren’t any good office supplies in there? Pacifier? Well, don’t mind if I do. BUT, WAIT, WAIT. I SAID NOTHING ABOUT WANTING TO GET INTO MY CRIB. WHY DON’T YOU PEOPLE EVER LISTEN TO ME?!?
1:33pm. I’m not napping, I’m not napping. LA, LA, LA.
1:34pm. You can’t make me nap. I’m going to lie here awake FOREVER. Suckers.
1:37pm. If I close my eyes, it’s just because I’m busy plotting my revenge. I’m not the least bit slee– *yawn*.
3:05pm. Now what was I saying. Oh, right. I WILL NOT nap. So, you might as well come get me. Hello, Mommy. I’m glad you have finally decided to listen to reason.
4:02pm. Big kid is up. I got grapes for my snack (cut into 16ths). And I hear talk of the playground. Woohoo! Life is good.
4:15pm. The playground. A microcosm of life. (Whatever the heck that means.) This is where babies become toddlers. And toddlers learn the hard facts of life. Like why we shouldn’t check to see whether the orange bucket filled with sand would make a good hat. (I’m just speaking hypothetically here people. I already know orange is not my color.) It’s every baby for herself out here. Hmm. Hang on. The cute baldy in the sandbox is offering me a shovel. How you doin?
4:16pm. Let me tell you something about the playground. I’ve been coming here for several months. In the beginning, I would swing on the swings, play in the sandbox, maybe slide down a few slides. Then one day, my eyes were opened. I found MY PURPOSE here. I’ll sum it up for you in two words. Toy. Car. I sat in one of those plastic toy cars. Not one of the ones with the open floor that you’re supposed to propel with your feet, Flintstone-style. Oh no. Not this girl. I’m talking vintage 2012 hummer convertible design. Pure plastic magic. I sat down. Daddy pushed me. HE PUSHED ME. All over the playground. Really fast. IT. WAS. AWESOME. And I made a promise to myself right there and then. I swore I would never- NEVER- settle for a less inspiring playground experience again. And I don’t. Mommy tries to put me in the swing: no, Ma’am. Mommy tries to put me in the sandbox: fuggedaboutit. Mommy tries to put me on the slide: oh, hells no.
When we get to the playground, I squirm around in Mommy’s arms until she puts me down. Then I waddle over to an acceptable vehicle. Climb inside. And wait for someone to push me. Sometimes it takes FOREVER and I have to pull on the steering wheel and screech. Loudly. Then, Mommy slooowly makes her way over. While texting Daddy. With an angry look on her face.
5:30pm. Well, folks, I rode around in my vehicle of choice for a while until Mommy started complaining about her back. Then, I helped Jacob make a leaf pile. And I made a bid on one of the lovely plastic houses here at the playground. (I hear real estate is always a safe investment.) Time to head home. What’s that, Mommy? You’re tired too. I understand. Watching me play must be exhausting. Mm. Yes, that was sarcasm, Mommy.
5:40pm. Back at home. Daddy has dinner on the stove. I see him cutting up some chunks of avocado and roasted sweet potato for my dinner bowl. Joy. Rapture. TEXTURE.
Well, kids, you can pretty much guess how it’s gonna go from here on out. We’ll have dinner. I’ll gesture wildly for whatever is on Mommy’s plate. Jacob will watch an episode or two of some show called “Wonder Pets”. I’ll waddle around the living room being adorable. And then around 7:00pm, Mommy and Daddy will decide that they just can’t stand another moment of my cuteness and put me to bed.
Look, it’s not a bad life. These people are okay. But let me say this. Someday, when my vocabulary (in English) expands beyond four words, there are going to be some serious changes around here. Stay tuned.
Until then. Peace out.