Googa!
I've always said that I'd never have children. The idea of being responsible for a life absolutely terrifies me. I haven't changed my stance on that (too bad for mum) but G seems determined to prove to me that babies aren't an alien species - they just act like it sometimes.
He's technically my first cousin once removed (thanks, chechi) but for my purposes, "nephew" works just fine. He's about six months old now and therefore past the snooze-for-twenty-hours-and-wail-for-fou
Mum turns into a strange creature whenever confronted by a baby. Inexplicably, she starts cooing at the infant in fractured sentences and attempting to eat them. Babies - or G, at least - seem to like being eaten. I theorise that this is because they're constantly trying to eat their own hands and feet. It's hard reaching places like their tummies, so they're happy when someone volunteers to help. That or it's just ticklish, because they almost always end up squealing.
As a side-note: squealing can be just as deafening as wailing.
Mum has also taken to unceremoniously plopping G in my arms and going off to talk to the Proud Parents, leaving me petrified and holding a cooing Bundle of Joy. I always feel like I'm about to drop him. I generally last about half a minute before begging someone to take him off my hands:
"Amma! Take him! He's going to cry!"
Babies can smell fear.
The wonderful thing about nephews (and nieces, and any baby that isn't yours) is that you can give them back when they need changing or start crying. It's oddly fun giving G his bottle, though I leave the burping (throwing up) to others.
G's recently been working on his caterpillar impression. He rolls over on his tummy, wiggles his butt in the air a bit, then works his knees under him and kicks off as best he can, head firmly squashed into the mattress. Generally, he moves about a quarter of an inch with each kick, but that doesn't stop him. Soon, he will be crawling and getting into absolutely everything. Good luck to the Parents.
I discovered that G's fascinated by water bottles. There I was, innocently drinking some water, when I felt a pair of eyes on me. I look up and there's G, in my mum's arms, very intently studying me.
I lowered the bottle. His eyes tracked me.
I shook the bottle slightly. Cue baby-grin.
Shake-shake-slosh-slosh. Cue maniacal laughter.
Maybe there's something in the water.
Babies look at the world in strange ways. We might be better people if we could all see the world like babies do. I decided to conduct a little experiment and speak to G in baby-talk, to see if I gained any enlightenment. By baby-talk, I don't mean "Oooh aren't you just pwecious you widdle cutie-pie!" This is what I mean:
G: Googa! *gurglegurgle* Ga!
Me: Googa! *gurglegurgle* Ga!
G: ...... *baby-laugh*
I believe he was mocking my pronunciation. But G's coming over for a visit today - I'll keep working on it.
He's technically my first cousin once removed (thanks, chechi) but for my purposes, "nephew" works just fine. He's about six months old now and therefore past the snooze-for-twenty-hours-and-wail-for-fou
Mum turns into a strange creature whenever confronted by a baby. Inexplicably, she starts cooing at the infant in fractured sentences and attempting to eat them. Babies - or G, at least - seem to like being eaten. I theorise that this is because they're constantly trying to eat their own hands and feet. It's hard reaching places like their tummies, so they're happy when someone volunteers to help. That or it's just ticklish, because they almost always end up squealing.
As a side-note: squealing can be just as deafening as wailing.
Mum has also taken to unceremoniously plopping G in my arms and going off to talk to the Proud Parents, leaving me petrified and holding a cooing Bundle of Joy. I always feel like I'm about to drop him. I generally last about half a minute before begging someone to take him off my hands:
"Amma! Take him! He's going to cry!"
Babies can smell fear.
The wonderful thing about nephews (and nieces, and any baby that isn't yours) is that you can give them back when they need changing or start crying. It's oddly fun giving G his bottle, though I leave the burping (throwing up) to others.
G's recently been working on his caterpillar impression. He rolls over on his tummy, wiggles his butt in the air a bit, then works his knees under him and kicks off as best he can, head firmly squashed into the mattress. Generally, he moves about a quarter of an inch with each kick, but that doesn't stop him. Soon, he will be crawling and getting into absolutely everything. Good luck to the Parents.
I discovered that G's fascinated by water bottles. There I was, innocently drinking some water, when I felt a pair of eyes on me. I look up and there's G, in my mum's arms, very intently studying me.
I lowered the bottle. His eyes tracked me.
I shook the bottle slightly. Cue baby-grin.
Shake-shake-slosh-slosh. Cue maniacal laughter.
Maybe there's something in the water.
Babies look at the world in strange ways. We might be better people if we could all see the world like babies do. I decided to conduct a little experiment and speak to G in baby-talk, to see if I gained any enlightenment. By baby-talk, I don't mean "Oooh aren't you just pwecious you widdle cutie-pie!" This is what I mean:
G: Googa! *gurglegurgle* Ga!
Me: Googa! *gurglegurgle* Ga!
G: ...... *baby-laugh*
I believe he was mocking my pronunciation. But G's coming over for a visit today - I'll keep working on it.