I thought I could handle it.
Just me and MightyBaby in the house while HoBiscuit and the In-Laws went out for a much needed day out. For some stupid reason, I thought MightyBaby would behave as she almost always does, sleeping most of the day away, the peaceful tranquility only occasionally punctuated by bouts of crying to get food or to be changed.
Unfortunately, my day has gone something like this;
Zero Hour: “Oh, she’s such an angel. She’s sleeping, she’s got on a clean diaper and she just ate, so there’s nothing to worry about. You guys go out and enjoy yourselves, I can take care of her. I mean, you’ll only be gone for about 4 hours, how bad could it be?”
5 Minutes Later: “Why are you crying? You’re supposed to stay asleep so daddy can play Halo3. Do you have gas? Is that it? Gas? Or could it be…?”
30 Seconds Later: “Holy crap! That’s NOT gas!”
5 Minutes Later: “OK, feel better now? Another clean diaper for you and now you can go back to sleepy-land, right?”
30 Minutes Later: “Why won’t you go to sleep? You’re supposed to be sleepy. You had a big meal, a clean diaper and no gas. Sleep for daddy, please?”
15 Minutes Later: “Daddy never realized how difficult it is to type emails with one hand. Perhaps daddy should look into buying a voice recognition program?”
15 Minutes Later: “Ixnay on the ogrampray. Daddy bets a screaming baby in the background would mess up the voice recognition software. Oh well, daddy will just have to train you to take dictation when you’re a bit older as punishment for this inconvenience, won’t he?”
30 Seconds Later: “Daddy was kidding! Come on! Just because you didn’t like the joke doesn’t mean you needed to voice your opinion quite so odorifically! Now daddy has to change you. Again. And stop looking so proud of yourself, it’s not lady-like.”
30 Seconds Later: “Daddy takes it back. He’d be proud of this, too.”
10 Minutes Later: “OK, now daddy bets you’re hungry. Well, you’re in luck! Daddy just happens to have 3 ounces of special BiscuitMilk for you right here. And daddy knows that after a big meal you like to be burped and then you’ll fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. And then daddy can play Halo3! So, bottoms up!”
30 Seconds Later: “Hmmm, that was fast. Now daddy wonders if he was supposed to let you eat the whole thing so quickly…?”
30 Seconds Later: “Exorcist Baby! Exorcist Baby! Exorcist Baby!”
30 Minutes Later: “Right. Well, now you’re all clean and changed. You’ve eaten, and retained, some small amount of food. And you’ve been sufficiently burped. It’s about time for you to sleep, so how about we turn off all the lights and rock in the chair for a bit and see if that helps put you in the mood?”
15 Minutes Later: “Well, rocking sucks. How about we try walking?”
15 Minutes Later: “Walking sucks even more. You’re still crying and now daddy’s tired. How about we try sitting quietly on the couch?”
10 Minutes Later: “Much better. Couch is good. We love Mr. Couch, don’t we Mighty Baby? No more crying, daddy can rest and even better, once you fall asleep daddy can just put you down on the couch and play Halo3 with you right next to him so he can keep an eye on you. It’s genius!”
5 Minutes Later: “What’s with the big, sad eyes? Why are you staring at daddy like a lost puppy?”
5 Minutes Later: “You’re beginning to creep daddy out with that big-eyed stare. What are you looking at? Daddy’s not that handsome.”
5 Minutes Later [whispered]: “Do you see dead people?”
10 Minutes Later: “What? What did you see in daddy’s face that made you smile like that? Does daddy have a booger?”
5 Minutes Later: “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”
30 Minutes Later: “OK, you’re drifting off now, you’re getting sleepy, I can see it. So, how about we put you down next to daddy on the couch, on this nice, soft blankie, and daddy plays some Halo3? Is that OK?”
30 Seconds Later: “OK, before daddy can play, he needs to use the bathroom. Please stay asleep so daddy can pee, OK?”
5 Minutes Later: “Whew! Daddy feels much better now. OK, time to play some Halo3!”
30 Seconds Later: “Why are you crying? All I did was turn on the XBox… Hey! Did your mother teach you to hate video games already?”
10 Minutes Later: “Well, you’re starting to fall asleep again and your mother will be home soon, so Iguess I’ll just put you down in your crib.”
5 Minutes Later: “Sigh. NOW you fall asleep? 5 whole minutes before your mother is supposed to come home?”
5 Minutes Later: “Hi Honey! How was your day? Did you all have fun? Us? We were fine. We had a great time together and MightyBaby was an angel, of course!”
And I still haven’t even opened up my Halo3 box yet. Dammit.
