Yawn
posted by Evan Jake at 10:16 PM
No, I won't smile. So stop asking.
Mom and dad were told that babies are supposed to smile between four and six weeks of age. I turned four weeks old on Wednesday and ever since, mom and dad have been in my grill insisting that I give them a smile.
They tickle my chin and make funny voices. They push up the corners of my mouth (ouch!). They beg and plead relentlessly. "Give us a smile. Where's a smile? Are you going to smile for us?" Fat chance.
What have they given me to smile about? I'm cooped up in this tiny place all day long. I can't get a decent night's sleep. I have acne and cradle cap. I've never met Cal Ripken, Jr. I don't go on nearly enough car rides (I love car rides!) And I am very, very gassy. So I cry. And I fuss. And my parents are totally and utterly clueless as to why.
Truth is, I can smile just fine. I smile all the time when I'm alone in my crib or in my bouncy chair and no one is looking. I'll smile to myself at 4:15am when I know mom and dad are sound asleep and I'm about to wake them up with my "crying."
But yesterday, there was a bit of a slip up. I made a really, really big poop. It felt so good. Smelled bad, felt good. I'd been working on it for at least 20 minutes. When it finally made it's way into my diaper, I was so content, I let a little smile slip out. It was purely by accident. And Mom caught a peek of it. My secret was out. She called dad over right away.
"Come quick! He's smiling a little bit." Dad came over and looked.
"Oh, it's just gas," dad said.
Actually, this one wasn't gas. It was a genuine, albeit accidental, smile. Dad indulged mom and went and got the camera. By the time he came back with the camera, I was finished smiling. He looked so disappointed. Then I realized that smiling could be a great new way to amuse myself.
Now, when mom holds me, I'll give her a tiny, tiny grin. She'll call over dad with the camera. By the time he comes over and gets the shot lined up, I'll have a good cry worked up instead. Dad is getting lots of pictures of me screaming, but no smiles! Wait, it gets better. Dad will hover over me with the camera waiting for me to smile again. He'll stand there for like ten or fifteen minutes. He's persistent. But eventually he gets impatient and gives up. I'll wait for him to put the lens cap back on and then I'll sneak out a little smile. He'll fumble to quickly snap a photo. But he won't get it. He'll never get it. Ha!
Now that is something to smile about.
~:O
No, I won't smile. So stop asking.Mom and dad were told that babies are supposed to smile between four and six weeks of age. I turned four weeks old on Wednesday and ever since, mom and dad have been in my grill insisting that I give them a smile.
They tickle my chin and make funny voices. They push up the corners of my mouth (ouch!). They beg and plead relentlessly. "Give us a smile. Where's a smile? Are you going to smile for us?" Fat chance.
What have they given me to smile about? I'm cooped up in this tiny place all day long. I can't get a decent night's sleep. I have acne and cradle cap. I've never met Cal Ripken, Jr. I don't go on nearly enough car rides (I love car rides!) And I am very, very gassy. So I cry. And I fuss. And my parents are totally and utterly clueless as to why.
Truth is, I can smile just fine. I smile all the time when I'm alone in my crib or in my bouncy chair and no one is looking. I'll smile to myself at 4:15am when I know mom and dad are sound asleep and I'm about to wake them up with my "crying."
But yesterday, there was a bit of a slip up. I made a really, really big poop. It felt so good. Smelled bad, felt good. I'd been working on it for at least 20 minutes. When it finally made it's way into my diaper, I was so content, I let a little smile slip out. It was purely by accident. And Mom caught a peek of it. My secret was out. She called dad over right away.
"Come quick! He's smiling a little bit." Dad came over and looked.
"Oh, it's just gas," dad said.
Actually, this one wasn't gas. It was a genuine, albeit accidental, smile. Dad indulged mom and went and got the camera. By the time he came back with the camera, I was finished smiling. He looked so disappointed. Then I realized that smiling could be a great new way to amuse myself.
Now, when mom holds me, I'll give her a tiny, tiny grin. She'll call over dad with the camera. By the time he comes over and gets the shot lined up, I'll have a good cry worked up instead. Dad is getting lots of pictures of me screaming, but no smiles! Wait, it gets better. Dad will hover over me with the camera waiting for me to smile again. He'll stand there for like ten or fifteen minutes. He's persistent. But eventually he gets impatient and gives up. I'll wait for him to put the lens cap back on and then I'll sneak out a little smile. He'll fumble to quickly snap a photo. But he won't get it. He'll never get it. Ha!
Now that is something to smile about.
~:O
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