Because Nate is so verbal, his voice is very present in this blog. At thirteen months, Sam is also present — just ask my right arm and hip — but he is not as verbal. He is basically “uh-oh” and “ball” and “hi” and “bye” and “hot.” Thus, our conversations are limited. So, I have taken the liberty to read his mind and interpret his thoughts for the day. Call it artistic license, call it omniscient parenting, call it whatever you want — it’s ripe for parody. Here is Sam’s voice.
Ooh, I’m awake! Let’s see, what kind of day shall I make it? Is it a screaming-bloody-murder morning or is it a talk-to-myself-playfully-in-my-crib morning? Yuck, what is that horrid stench? I pooped again, didn’t I? My God, there is too much fiber in my diet. I keep trying to send her that message. No, Mom, no more carrots, apples, peanut butter, but she just doesn’t get it. It’s like talking to a wall. Oooh, look, my bear. I’ll tell him. Listen Bear, I pooped again. A lot. Tell her she’s giving me too much fiber. I mean, how has she not picked up on that? I’m averaging way too many poops per day. I guess she doesn’t care. Diapers must be pretty inexpensive…
Mmm, this is delicious. Let me spit it all out onto my lap. More please! Keep it coming, woman. Hmm, why the delay? She’s ignoring me again. Eh. Eh! Feed me! Eeeehhhhhhhh! Feed me now!
Thank you. Mmm — so good! Spit up some more into my lap… Hey, Mom! Cheers! This is the best…Cheers! Cheers! Cheers! Cheers! Hahaha…how do these people think of this stuff? Knocking our cups together? That’s great. Way to go, Mom! Cheers!
Here, Wally, have some waffle. Gotta get my quota.
Ugh, get me out of this highchair! I need to go into the study an de-shelve all those books. They should be spread out across the carpet, some wide open and with pages torn out, not neatly ordered on the shelf. I have to do everything around here.
Taking off my PJs! Thanks, Mom! A chance to be naked, free. No shirt, no pants, no socks! No shirt, no pants, no socks! Woo-hoo!
Oh, Sam, look at that gut. That’s it — diet starts tomorrow! I’m getting older now, can’t eat like an eight month-old. Bathing suit season — whatever that is — is right around the corner…
Oh, man, not the “Dancing Machine” shirt again! That is so cheesy and lame. If I hear one more person say, “oh, that is so cute,” I’m going to hurl this Pez dispenser at them.
Yay, tooth brushing! My favorite! I wonder what will happen if I use my toothbrush to stir the toilet. Swirly, swirly, swirly, swirly…this is fun! Hey, what the — why are you taking my toothbrush, Mom? I was using that. Hey, come on! Don’t throw it in the trash! It had Winnie the Pooh on it! I wanted it. Now I’m sad.
Hey, look, there’s my Dad! He’s putting his coat on…getting his bag together. Uh-oh…He’s leaving! My dad is leaving again! THIS IS THE WORST THING EVER! Why? Why, Dad? Come on, it’s unsafe out there! It’s a big world! With strangers! And loud trucks! And dogs we don’t know! And doctors that give shots! And Nate says there are lots of monsters! And dinosaurs! And ghosts! And bad guys! What if you can’t make it back? Take me with you! I’ll protect you. Ok, bye, Dad! Bye! Bye! Bye! Look, he’s still waving. I better keep waving so I don’t hurt his feelings. Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye!
Into the laundry room I go, into the laundry room I go…crawling, crawling, crawling, crawling…knee, hand, knee, hand, knee, hand… I hear spinning! Ooh, the clothes are spinning! Around and around and around…and around and around and around…and around and around and around…
STARVING! I am so hungry! All I ate for breakfast was a waffle, a granola bar, a banana, a clementine, eight or nine fistfuls of Cheerios, half of Nate’s Pop Tart, the rest of Nate’s cereal, and about a third of my dad’s banana. Why don’t they feed me more? Meanwhile, look at Nate. That peanut butter sandwich on his plate sits untouched, he never finishes his yogurt, and only eats half of each apple slice. Does he not know there are starving children in Africa? There’s also a starving child sitting in the high chair across from him — me!
Cheers! Cheers! Cheers!
What did she say? Anyone want another cookie? Uh, hello. Obviously. Is the Pope Catholic? Does a bear shit in the woods? Heck yes, I want another cookie. Wait, what the —? Where’s she going? I said I wanted another one. That’s it, I’m slamming the rest of this grilled cheese into the floor!
Mmm, that was a good lunch. Gotta go fill Wally’s bowl with Legos now.
Geeze, is that kid in Time Out again? Either he’s an idiot or she’s PMS-ing pretty bad this week. Oh, poor guy. He doesn’t have his mittens. I better bring him some.
Wait — did she just say “nap time?” Is she kidding me? I love this song! After this song — let’s go up after this song! Where are my drumsticks? Oh, yeah, there they are. “…king of the castle and you’re a dirty rascal…” Mom. Stop. Do not ruin this song with your singing.
Nope, not gonna sleep! And I’m mad about this! Very angry. Very, very angry. You haven't heard the last of me! Sam will be back! Sam will be back with a — oh, look, my lovie…so soft…so — ZZZZZZ….
Snack time! Sooooo hungry! Come on woman — bring me something good! Crackers? Banana? Fine. That’s tolerable.