Can you believe I made that kid? In the past few weeks, my sweet Dee has gone from tiny little person larvae, to full blown baby. It’s awesome. I knew this girl was going to have personality from the first time she played bongos on my cervix, and holy-baby-jesus-in-a-manger is it starting to show. She’s a laughaholic. I’m actually concerned she’s going to use up her whole life’s laugh allotments she laughs so much. And she’s clearly a thrill seeker. If you manage to give her a jolt, it’s followed immediately with a grin that I’m almost certain is meant to say “that was rad, mommy – do it again”. I’m pretty sure she has my Mom’s sense of humor, which is to say, she loves her some potty humor. (Sorry Mom, but it’s true. SHART. See? You’re totally laughing.) This morning, Delilah farted so loud it startled the dog and my dainty little princess laughed and laughed (and by laughed, I mean she did what Scott and I like to call “the Stevie Wonder” where she opens her mouth into a gigantic smile and sways her head from side to side.)
She also has Ace-Ventura like control over her sphincter. (I can hear my future teenager now: “OHMYGODMOMICAN’TBELIEVEYOUMADEREFERENCETOMYSPHINCTERON THEINTERNETINPUBLICYOUWHORE” and Scott will be all “Don’t call your Mother a whore.”) When she gets a diaper change, she always waits until the exact moment that I lift her bottom up off the mat to check her underside for errant mustard seeds, and just as I lean down she let’s it rip so that I am forced to try and simultaneously shield myself from flying poo-particles without compromising her safety on the changing table. And oh, how it amuses her.
But despite the fact that she’s perfected the art of projectile vomiting, and makes a habit of peeing on the only pair of pants that fit me, this little girl is the light of my life. I know, it’s so cliche: I love my baby. I’m totally that woman with pee on her pants who runs around screeching “MY KID IS THE BEST KID EVER” and everyone else is going “grab a bumper sticker and get in line, bitch.” But here’s the secret. My kid IS the best kid ever. Because every time you ever sat in a Denny’s hung over on a Saturday morning while the kid in the booth next to you is poking at you with his syrupy fingers until his parents reprimand him and he throws a fit and has to be taken outside, and you wonder to yourself “are all kids that annoying, or will it be different when it’s my kid?” the answer is YES. It will be different. Because YOUR kid will be the best kid ever, and that kid? Well that kid is someone elses’ sticky, grimy, projectile vomiting, pants-ruining problem.
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