Dear Mama: Just Checkin’ In

Dear Mama,

I hear through the grapevine that you’re planning on writing an update post about me every three months.  Well, uh, I’m ten months old, ya know.  Nine months went right on by and you were busy blabbing and pontificating.  I’m just going to be honest with you, I think you get sidetracked all too often.  Dad told me that it happened before I came around, so don’t go trying to pin it on me.  Don’t fret, I don’t judge you.  I’m ten months old, my judgment is reserved for not getting enough milk and giving the stink eye to my sisters for stealing my stuff.  Don’t forget about little ol’ me though.  I happen to like these letters-that-aren’t-really-from-me-but-your-way-of-talking-to-the world-about-me.  Heck, I just like stuff about me.

They dress me like an old man…

What can I tell you?  I love bacon, avocados, and fries.  And kombucha.  That bubbly feeling freaks me out, but I can’t stop from going back.  Party in my mouth, you know?  I hate, however, when you give me food on a spoon and expect me to hold it.  You see, contrary to public misperception, I am a very wise dude.  Why in heaven’s name would I want to feed myself when you seem willing to do it for me?  I like to just open my mouth and wait for you to feed me.  Like a little bird.  It works. Let’s not rock the boat.

My new favorite pastime is linking my hands together and trying to get my head through my arms.  I can never do it, since my arms are still shorty, so I end up yelling, looking like my arms are stuck.  (By the way, I do notice when you laugh at me.)  I’m really into standing with support, blowing raspberries, and doing my old-man-without-his-dentures face.  I know, I’m such a party animal.

I also really, really, really like riding around on your back in that big strip of fabric thingy you’ve got.  I like to hang onto your ears while you wrap me up there, and I like chewing on your hair while I ride around like a little prince.  Then I put my head down and drool on your neck while I nap.  All around, I like.

About to nod off for a nap…

You know what I don’t like though?  When you try to put me down to sleep.  I’d been pondering, and I think it is waaaay more awesome to fall asleep at the boob.  The thing is, I didn’t know that this whole “sleep in your own bed” thing was not mandatory.  I had no idea that millions of babies all over the world are getting out of their cribs just by crying!  I feel really cheated.  Months and months of my life that I could have probably spent crying so that you’d let me sleep with you, lost.  Don’t you fret, I’ll make up for it.  All that forced nursing and lying down with me is really time to bond, right?  Aw, come on… don’t be such a sourpuss, mama.  Ya love it.

I’m kind of mad that my sisters never clued me into this.  Seriously, what are siblings for, but to give you inside info like this???  Instead, I have sisters who tie fluffy boas around my waist, and then call me the “King Princess”.  And then, get this, they run around me in circles!  I’m so gullible that I actually try to watch them go around in circles and then end up falling over.  Every.  Single.  Time.

Anyways.  If you keep feeding and changing me, I promise to keep growing and entertaining you.  I think it is a very equitable trade.

Love and Wet Raspberries,

The Little Pirate