exile on my street
how is it possible that a six month old child can get bored? fine. she's almost seven months old now. almost. granted. but, still ... HOW IS IT THAT SHE GETS BORED? she hasn't been around long enough to get bored. everything should still be new to her! but, oh, people, she gets bored. man. if she does not enjoy the going entertainment of the moment she will let you know. she squirms. she wriggles and grunts. she does this thing with her spine where she becomes totally rigid and erect while somehow managing to become floppy as an overcooked noodle AT THE SAME TIME. how does she do it? floppy yet rigid! a mystery!
i know why she does it, though: she's bored. she tires of her multi-colored plastic chains. she is bored of the giant stuffed tiger. the exersaucer entertains her for a few minutes, tops, before its charms cease to seduce her. mind you, until the moment where she decides that the world is about to end if something (namely me) doesn't drastically alter her reality PRONTO, she is having the time of her life. a fucking blast. she smiles and shouts with glee. but then, with almost no warning, it all comes crashing to a halt. she pauses. her brow furrows almost imperceptibly. she stops smiling. she looks around the room, searching for the invisible demon which is apparently about to enter her being. she opens her mouth. and then she makes this sound:
i know why she does it, though: she's bored. she tires of her multi-colored plastic chains. she is bored of the giant stuffed tiger. the exersaucer entertains her for a few minutes, tops, before its charms cease to seduce her. mind you, until the moment where she decides that the world is about to end if something (namely me) doesn't drastically alter her reality PRONTO, she is having the time of her life. a fucking blast. she smiles and shouts with glee. but then, with almost no warning, it all comes crashing to a halt. she pauses. her brow furrows almost imperceptibly. she stops smiling. she looks around the room, searching for the invisible demon which is apparently about to enter her being. she opens her mouth. and then she makes this sound:
EEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
she wants me to know that she is bored! and it is too late. she has officially passed the point of no return: NOTHING i do will make her unbored.
cats? they'll do for a minute. the mirror?! sure, interesting enough ... for 34 seconds. a walk in the bjorn??!! only if you don't mind having a test of the emergency broadcast system strapped to your ribcage in public for 30 minutes. a nap? HA, FOOL!
this kid is, i have no choice but to conclude, an ADHD afflicted midget with a severe methamphetamine addiction. i swear, she's doing meth in her crib while she's supposed to be napping. HOW CAN ANYONE HAVE THIS MUCH UNSTOPPABLE ENERGY?!?! the reaching! the grabbing! the pulling! the needing!
i think i know what's going on: she desperately wants to move. she has no desire whatsoever to fucking sit still and enjoy her multi-textured board books which somehow manage to captivate her father for hours. (THAT'S not my puppy, her ears are too fluffy! feel the ears! feel how soft and soothing they are ... definitely too fluffy. definitely not my puppy. and yet ... everything is suddenly, well, GOOD when you caress those soft puppy ears. STROKE THEM!) she does not want to remain in one place. she does not want to sit quietly while you drink scotch at 11 am (hey, it's almost noon!) and look at dirty, dirty pitctures on your wife's computer. this baby has bigger plans for her day!
and yet! she shows absolutely no interest in crawling. no. she is much, much more intrigued by the prospect of slipping a beaten copy of On the Road into her back pocket and hitting the asphalt with her own private Neal Cassady -- she wants to cruise. she wants to ramble. she wants to jig and jog. she wants to move. mostly, she is very excited by the prospect of destroying my house. she wants to yank every motherlovin' book and picture frame and knicknack that isn't nailed down from the bottom shelves of all our book cases. she wants to to make life exceedingly difficult for a certain awkward, slow-moving, asthmatic galoot of a mr. nice guy. anything else would be just, well, boring. she wants to wreck this place like it was some classy hotel and she was the rolling stones on tour in 1975.
and you know what? i am confident that she will ... i have never been more confident of anything.
she wants me to know that she is bored! and it is too late. she has officially passed the point of no return: NOTHING i do will make her unbored.
cats? they'll do for a minute. the mirror?! sure, interesting enough ... for 34 seconds. a walk in the bjorn??!! only if you don't mind having a test of the emergency broadcast system strapped to your ribcage in public for 30 minutes. a nap? HA, FOOL!
this kid is, i have no choice but to conclude, an ADHD afflicted midget with a severe methamphetamine addiction. i swear, she's doing meth in her crib while she's supposed to be napping. HOW CAN ANYONE HAVE THIS MUCH UNSTOPPABLE ENERGY?!?! the reaching! the grabbing! the pulling! the needing!
i think i know what's going on: she desperately wants to move. she has no desire whatsoever to fucking sit still and enjoy her multi-textured board books which somehow manage to captivate her father for hours. (THAT'S not my puppy, her ears are too fluffy! feel the ears! feel how soft and soothing they are ... definitely too fluffy. definitely not my puppy. and yet ... everything is suddenly, well, GOOD when you caress those soft puppy ears. STROKE THEM!) she does not want to remain in one place. she does not want to sit quietly while you drink scotch at 11 am (hey, it's almost noon!) and look at dirty, dirty pitctures on your wife's computer. this baby has bigger plans for her day!
and yet! she shows absolutely no interest in crawling. no. she is much, much more intrigued by the prospect of slipping a beaten copy of On the Road into her back pocket and hitting the asphalt with her own private Neal Cassady -- she wants to cruise. she wants to ramble. she wants to jig and jog. she wants to move. mostly, she is very excited by the prospect of destroying my house. she wants to yank every motherlovin' book and picture frame and knicknack that isn't nailed down from the bottom shelves of all our book cases. she wants to to make life exceedingly difficult for a certain awkward, slow-moving, asthmatic galoot of a mr. nice guy. anything else would be just, well, boring. she wants to wreck this place like it was some classy hotel and she was the rolling stones on tour in 1975.
and you know what? i am confident that she will ... i have never been more confident of anything.
posted by mr. nice guy at 10:31 PM
11 Comments:
or they will try to eat their grandmother's earring
Ahh.. that's too funny! Just you wait, my friend, it only gets *better*... cackle...
Oh, I love Usborne books too. If you ever have a baby boy nice guy (or if the current BNG likes trucks), "That's Not My Truck" is another gooder! "That's not my truck, its mixer is too ridgy..."
Not having a baby of my own, I thought you had finally gone off your rocker with the "that's not my puppy" paragraph. Definitely weird if you do not have a baby and are not acquainted with the book as is Anonymous #1.
Oh you don't know the half of it...bored and mobile is a whole other world of hurt. You just wait.
Mary! Shame on you!
No, what she *really* needs is a real puppy.
What?
once upon a time i had a clean house with clean floors and clean surfaces. and then we had to move everything off the bottom shelves until the top shelves were fit to burst, and then we had to remove all the outlet covers because you know what makes outlets exciting? the covers! which she would remove like it was her job, and then it was walking while she left a trail of toys in her wake, and then it was making 'worlds'. entire polly pocket biospheres made of blankies and pillow cushions and her stroller tied together with hair ribbons that if you GOD FORBID disturbed in any way (even to free the cat) would let loose a maelstrom of preschool fury the likes of which you can only imagine.
that's why my house is messy.
drinking helps me notice it less.
My baby does the smiling to screaming thing too. Why don't babies come with middle ground?
Yeah, who knew that babies did so much grunting and yelling? I'm amazed that my windows are intact with all the high-pitched shrieking going on around here. To be a baby is to be fascinated one minute and frustrated the next, I guess.
Snacks.
My baby is 9 months old. She can move, yet she still gets bored. When all else fails, I give her snacks. Puffy crackers or applesauce or whatever keeps her happy.
My baby weighs 42 lbs. She is a small goat.
**Warning: When baby NG does decide to crawl, she will quickly learn to pull up on things and even quicker will fall and smash her face. There is no preparation for this phase, just crying and more vodka.
My daughter walked at 7 1/2 months. I could keep up, but I was decidedly less drunk than you will be :) My son I stuck in a walker and allowed him to roam where I wanted him to, by blocking the hallways with pillows. Today's walkers cannot roll over pillows, no matter how thin they are. And, it won't make them "bow legged", as all the old mothers warned me.
Two words Mr Nice Guy - "Jolly Jumper".
You hang em in the doorway and it keeps them entertained for HOURS. Ok, maybe not hours - MINUTES. But a lot of minutes!! WAAAYYY better than the crappy, boring exersaucer.....
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