The people who take care of me, otherwise known as my parents, have gone off their rockers. They keep offering me what they call ‘finger foods.’ There are many things wrong with this, more than I can count on my fingers, of which I believe I have about ten.
I know I am supposed to eat table legs and cats. But when they put a rice crispy in front of me, I really have to question their judgement. I know I will never, ever choke on a table leg. It’s so big, eating a table leg is as safe as can be. I will never catch the cat, so trying to eat him is not a problem. But a rice crispy? A little piece of soft sweet potato? Or a tiny little piece of cooked carrot? What are they thinking?? They are willing to risk a lot when they put those things on my high chair tray and expect that I transfer them into my mouth.
I’ve tried telling them they have to stop wasting time cutting cooked carrots into pieces and get to the real work of clearing all the furniture out of this place. I mean everything – I have no need for furniture and I need room to crawl and climb. I can crawl really fast now, and I can climb up anything. I have scaled couches like they are Everest. I have made my bedroom Annapurna base camp for my treks. I have tossed my lunch on their rug so often as to change the color scheme. You don’t need rugs with a baby in the house, and you don’t want furniture in the way of the baby when he is crawling.
Of course, they have not cleared away any of the furniture. They still use it for sitting on, to give themselves a break from cutting up carrots. When I speak to them as articulately as possible about the pointlessness of this they always say, ‘Oh isn’t he cute, he’s saying mama mama and da da da da.’ But I am not saying those things at all. I am saying they need to stop cutting things into small pieces and get to work clearing away all the plants, all the tall objects that might tip over, all the wires – anything that might get in my way.
Oh, you say, but if they take away all the wires they will have no lights. Not a problem, I say. At this time of year it is still light when I go to bed. If they went to bed at the same time as me they wouldn’t need lights anyway. Oh, you say, if they remove the furniture they will have no place to sit and watch television. I say television sucks. The rickety stand the TV sits on is too tall anyway, and I will be tipping it over soon enough. Oh, you say, if they remove everything from the house that isn’t baby-proof then they will have nothing to do all day but watch you crawl around.
Ah, now you’re catching on.