A tip of the tongue

I never quite understood it, but for some reason it always seemed that when people picked me up they'd sooner or later start sticking their tongue out at me. Usually I'd just stare back at them, befuddled. What was the meaning of this rude behavior? Had I done something to offend them? Is it some ritual greeting, like shaking hands? (I still haven't figured THAT one out - helloooo, people - do you have any idea where my hands have been?)

And then, the other day, I'd had enough of all that so I stuck my tongue out right back at them! You know what? It's fun! No wonder people are always doing this! Now whenever someone sticks their tongue out at me, I respond in kind - and we all laugh like the dickens!

Saturday

Today Mom and Dad took me in a car ride across the city to see some friends from birthing class.  When we arrived at a house I looked around to see if there were any other babies and sure enough there was another milk-guzzler like me.  She was a bit smaller and she needed spit-up in her hair to get it to lay down.  Her name was Shula.  I told dad that I thought the football reference was cool, but he told me it had to do with the Bible, Shulamit something or other.  Whatever.  Then another milk-guzzler came in.  She was balder than an eagle!  I tried not to laugh too hard.  Then I fell asleep.  The end.

I'm ready for my spit-up, I mean, close-up, C.B.!

I fully realize that I'm at the stage where everything I do is cute and adorable, though I don't mind turning on the charm when I have to. 

Naps and Dreams

Goodness me, this week has flown by.  It's like I got put down for one of those awful naps that mom and dad keep insisting on, and then woke up days later.  Moose van Winkle! 

What's the deal with naps anyway?  Are they doing something secret?  What am I missing out on?  Do I look like a baby that needs to sleep 18 hours a day?  One of these days I am going to bust out of that bassinet and do some reconnaissance, but first I've got to figure out how to roll over.

Bring me that horizon!

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

May be it is in my heritage but just like English poet John Masefield I find myself constantly called back to the sea. Well, to the St. Croix River, anyway, and it's not a tall ship but a pontoon boat. Nevertheless, I ride easily over the waves, my eyes fixed unwaveringly on the horizon. It's hard to explain the attraction, but Masefield, author of "Sea Fever", understands.

Startle

Every time daddy sneezes or blows his nose I get startled.  I was having some milk for breakfast this morning when he let loose with one.  I popped right off.  At this point, I think he does it on purpose.

I Invented a New Game

This afternoon, after dad got home from work, we were playing one of his favorite games.  He would squeeze my cheeks and make a funny noise.  I would laugh.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Not a bad game at all.  But I thought I would spice things up a bit.  So as he pinched my cheeks again I let out a big noise from my bottom.  He and Mom laughed about how stinky I was.  I was laughing too, especially when Dad discovered that I'd burst the bonds of my diaper and overpowered the defenses of my pajamas.  He was nice enough to change me before he changed himself.  Maybe we can play my game again soon; it's called, "Explosion!"