Wednesday, January 21, 2009

My day as a baby part II…

During the meeting I’ll open my portfolio and grab someone’s pen off the conference table and start drawing. Lines, circles, on the table…everywhere I want to in “my area”. I will then see the array of “toys” around the room and proceed to grab them and play with them. Bob’s BlackBerry, which he will fail to notice in time, now has a photo of his love for Britney Spears that he didn’t want displayed as his home screen photo. I’ll next grab Cindy’s mouse and start pushing buttons before she notices and quietly pulls me away. But…my mission has been accomplished: In the matter of a couple random key strokes I’ve managed to select and print 29 pages of blank spreadsheet paper, “Yeah for Chris!” Lastly, Mike’s iPhone isn’t far away and it will fall victim to random touches, ‘pinches,’ and ‘widens’ that now leave him with four icon’s on his home screen and downloading a New Kids on the Block video.

About 15 minutes into the meeting there will be a PowerPoint presentation which I’ll enjoy for the first four slides then decide its more fun to adjust my seat, not caring that the sudden drop which makes me giggle, creates a resounding thump throughout the room. I’ll get shushed and dirty looks from peers and my finally my boss so I’ll stop. At the sound of the presenter saying strategic or planning I’ll blow air through my closed lips, making a motorboat sound, loud enough to create a pause and for everyone to know I’m bored. By this time someone will summon my Helper/Sherpa/Dude of Responsibility/Assistant and they will be told in hushed whispers that I either need to leave but they’d prefer if I stayed in the room and was distracted, like with a DVD player. (Excellent idea, if I do say so myself.)

So, the portable DVD player will be summoned and appear as if magic and my attention will be riveted to it. “Rocket ship,” I’ll announce and if not immediately acknowledged I will say it again and again until someone does, “Rocket ship! Rocket ship! Rocket ship!…” The DVD will start and I’ll see a bunch of writing with the words FBI capitalized and I’ll immediately say, “Ut-oh! Ut-oh!” Then the previews will start and I’ll get quiet. This isn’t exactly what I want but I’m calmed by what’s to come: A movie that I’ve already seen 50 times and I can sing half the words to, but, hey, I’m a toddler so I love seeing DVD’s over and over again. In the middle of one of the previews the screen will freeze and I’ll say, “Ut-oh…happened? Happened?” To which, I’ll be reassured; “It’s coming. Rocket ship is coming, hold on.”

“Hold on,” I’ll repeat.

After 15 more minutes people will leave and I’ll be sitting their still glued to the DVD not noticing that the conference room lights are back on, I’m by myself, and someone is saying, “Do you want some juice?”

“Honey, do you want some juice?”
“Sweet pea, do you want some juice?”
“Pumpkin, do you want some juice?”
“Earth to Chris….”

Then the screen will go black on the DVD and I’ll snap out of my trance.

“Juice!,” I’ll announce as if this demand is my idea and must be met immediately.

The Dude of Responsibility reaches into a backpack and pulls out a full, fresh juice. I’ll get about half way through it and then suddenly, for no reason, throw it across the conference room table. This will either be responded to with questioning, light scolding, or “Okay, all done.” If the last one the DVD will be immediately folded up, taken away and I will be escorted out of the room. (Someone’s going to have to clean up the small pile of cracker crumbs on the floor beneath my seat…ha! ha! [I win! I win!...we’ll not really, but I’m a kid and I don’t realize that until my helper isn’t with me outside the room because they’re cleaning up.]

“Mommy?!,” Said in a small voice with a sad face and exposed lower teeth.
“Mommy?!,” This time, louder and the tear ducts are shifting from second gear (welling) to full throttle.

Now it’s time for a field trip with my sisters before heading home for the day. Today’s field trip is to the zoo. The zoo’s cool because I can repeat the names of the animals that daddy or mommy say and if something amazing happens, like a Big Jet flying over head I can stop everything I’m doing look straight up to the sky and announce over and over again, “Big Jet! Big Jet!” This all the while my assistant is trying to get me to walk to the other side of the zoo to see the polar bears. Since the zoo happens to be close to O’Hare the Big Jet thing can happen 12-15 times before we get to the polar bears; fun for me, for my assistant, not so much.

Along the way I want to pull the wagon. It weighs just less than I do (as a toddler, of course) but I can do it because I want to. No one, absolutely no one (especially siblings), is allowed to grab the handle or push from the back. If they do I go from 0-Tantrum in 1.5 seconds (Note to all car enthusiasts that’s four times faster than a Porsche 911 goes 0-60 MPH) and I couple that with jumping and possibly running away or standing in place and changing my skin color from white to red with a lovely, tear-fists of rage-screaming combo that is always good for high scores from the East German judge. In a British accent: “It’s a difficult combo but one he’s obviously done before. I must say this reminds me of a reverse 1.5 somersault with 3.5 twists in the pool at Bejing.”

My response is well thought out and the running away piece depends on the infraction and the last time I used the running away action to show my complete disgust of the situation. Using the running away piece too often will lead to parents/grandparents/adult supervisors to walk away and say ‘Bye-bye…see you later. We’re going this way.” So, it totally loses its effectiveness.

Also, I must note here that my big sister must mind her own business and stop giving me the toy that sucks as a gesture of goodwill. I know better and I don’t want the mutilated bath toy animal or one of the five piggies that she doesn’t care about. I’m smart and when she does this I know that I need to just go and grab one of the animals off the arm rest that are lined up perfectly and it will send her into a tizzy of “NO! NO! NO!”. That, of course, will turn possible parental scolding from me to her and then everyone’s in trouble, so watch out big sister, I know the 411. “Don’t f*#$ with Mr. Zero.” (For those When Harry Met Sally fans out there)

Back to the polar bear expedition: We’ve reached the polar bears and I have to pee and I’m not wearing a diaper. My Sherpa [the name makes me think of the bulter, a.k.a. pilot episode of Jerry on Seinfeld. “That’s my Sherpa.”] goes into panic mode because he doesn’t have a change of clothes and we are a LONG way from the bathroom (300 yards away in the lions building). [Note to self: A free zoo’s is great until you need a bathroom.]

But he remembers that, if the greenhouse is open, there is one in there and everything will be okay. So we head that way, he’s leading and calling my name continually as I lollygag my way towards the bathroom looking at flowers, the ground, and I think I hear another Big Jet…hum. What did I need to do? I don’t remember. We finally get there and he’s in a panic to get me on the toilet. I make it and make sure I’m aiming correctly so I don’t paint the walls, and him, with pee.

Now that that’s over I’m ready for juice! We meander back towards the middle of the zoo and decide that it’s late so we need to go home. But after we get in the car and the DVD’s all set up he tells me that we are going to go to DQ and get some ice cream. Shouts of, “ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!,” followed by shrieking deafen Sherpas hearing and are accompanied with jumping up and down and big smiles. We get there and I’ve completely forgot what and where we are so after the car seat is unlocked I take my time getting down and then looking for the remote to the DVD player. Why? Because I think I can operate it and I’ve seen mommy and daddy do it when I say DVD. DVD. DVD. For some reason this thing makes the DVD work. Now if I can just hide it and point it at the front of the car and push some buttons I’ll be in control! That dreams disappears quickly as the remote is snatched out of my hands and thrown back in the center console while I’m pulled towards the side door. We get inside and I decide that the coolest thing in DQ are high chairs and the ATM machine. “Cool, buttons; wow.”

My Dude of Responsibility informs me that I need to sit down before the ice cream comes so I’m lifted into my seat and he disappears, but not for continual words of reassurance that he’ll be right back and I can see him through the glass at the counter. Never, even, out of my sight.

Then here it comes, vanilla ice cream with sprinkles. Could anything ever be so perfect? Is God nearby because I must be in heaven? I pause, for no apparent reason, and he takes the spoon to give me some ice cream and I get angry. I want to do it, in my own time. Forget the fact or reasoning that ice cream is one of man’s greatest inventions ever and 20 minutes ago I was screaming and jumping up and down. I am in control…Lord help the Sherpa. When I do dip in I get a HUGE chunk of smooth vanilla covered on one side with sprinkles and I put it in my mouth. As soon as it hits my tongue I make this face where my eye’s almost close and my mouth puckers up, “Cwold,” I announce in a low voice. It’s yummy, but it’s coooold!

Jordan and his “cold” face

Grace with sprinkles

Emily and her ice cream

We head home and of course I’m in no mood for dinner. I’ll sit there, of course, because it’s a change for me and my posse (sisters) to chat about the day and piss off mommy and daddy by doing some of the little things.

We’re all at the table and I decide to see if my milk cup will roll. It does, with some success, but for this to be complete I need to enlist the gang. When they join in it is successful and here comes daddy. “1…2…,” we stop, just in time. For my next act I have a little list of actions I like to do:
Stick the fork in between the wall and the table.
Bang the fork on the table that makes a big racket and it’s great if the other two join me.
Pushing my bowl or plate across the table is fun.
Throwing food or scraping my food off the plate on to the table is fun.
I wrap all this up with a push back. Pushing my chair back and announcing, “A’ done.”

Next we move on to the de-clothing at the table, moving into the living room to find toys to litter the floor with and watching Rocket again.

Then my parents will attempt to dress all of us and change our diapers. We have to fight it by either running away through the house or kicking when they are changing me. It’s not really necessary but I need to do it in order to show them who’s boss ☺. Then they’ll dress me while I’m mesmerized by the television. Next up it’s Ba-ba time. Mr. Bottle is on his way and I’m all excited. It also means that bed time isn’t far away but I don’t realize that until daddy picks me up and takes me downstairs a couple minutes later. Off to sleep and what should I do tomorrow to make things more fun? Drawing on furniture with paints...Hum.

Coming soon:

· Holiday’s 2008 and how not to travel
· What texting really means to adults
· White noise
· Getting my man card when I bought a new TV.