July 13, 2009 by skwishface
I just woke up from a nap. Daddy is holding That Baby. My interpretation of reality omits the concept of “temporary” in application to anyone but myself. Thus, it is obvious that Daddy will never NOT be holding That Baby.
Hold me, Mommy. Do not stop holding me.
I demand juice and snack. After some debate, I politely request juice and snack.
Why are you not holding me? Where is the compromise, here? I very clearly conceded the need for good manners, can you not meet me halfway and hold me WHILE assembling the requested juice and snack? I will stand in one place and wail open-mouthed while you think this over.
Now I don’t want the juice and snack. Obviously I’m too upset to eat or drink anything. I have been traumatized by your lack of compromise and require more holding. If you so much as shift position, I shall whimper a warning. But only once. Whimper is prelude to wail. This is a fact.
You say that you need to start cooking dinner. I say that you need to keep holding me. Good, I’m glad we discussed this.
Why are you not holding me, Mother? Why are you in the kitchen? I believe I was very clear on this point. I am grumpy and hungry and thirsty. I now choose to not even see the juice and snack. They are dead to me. No, Daddy canNOT hold me. He is still holding That Baby. I shall stand in the center of the kitchen, arms extended to you, and wail open-mouthed until you break.
That Baby is trying to out-wail me. Foolish Baby. I will show her how a professional does it. She doesn’t have nearly enough snot running down her face.
Triumph! You pick me up! We sit on the couch! I whimper softly so that you know I am still wounded on the inside.
… I’m hungry. Where’s dinner?