We are told to talk--and talk, and talk--to our babies, and so I sift through my mental detritus:
*Komodo dragons are the largest reptiles. They are found in Indonesia.
*THE MUSIC MAN defeated WEST SIDE STORY for the Tony Award, and some people say that that's fine.
*Polar bears are in the Arctic; penguins are in Antarctica.
*Your dads like the park; it's very green.
*Tigers are in Asia; lions are in Africa.
My baby doesn't really respond. He does a little dance with his arms, part-maestro, part-yoga-instructor.
***
Feeding is an art. The problem is that the baby falls asleep mid-bottle. So you have to tickle the soles of his feet. Then the feeding resumes. But the baby's attention will seem to wander, so you have to be coy; you have to pretend to remove the bottle from the baby's mouth. Just one little tug, and the baby snaps to attention. He decides he *does* want milk. The grass is always greener....
***
After a pushy guy circumcises your baby, you must begin applying rings of bacitracin to the penis. The bacitracin inevitably migrates toward the baby's foot, the baby's hair, the baby's thigh. A ring seems actually impossible; the bacitracin wants to poke its head out of the tube, then freeze itself, or even retreat.
Wailing begins; a pacifier sails across the room. An exposed, angry baby-penis stares up at you.
Maybe there is peeing, now, or maybe a soiled diaper is sliding off the keekaroo peanut.
I'd just like to paint this picture--here--because it's something I haven't found, elsewhere, in the books I've read.
*Komodo dragons are the largest reptiles. They are found in Indonesia.
*THE MUSIC MAN defeated WEST SIDE STORY for the Tony Award, and some people say that that's fine.
*Polar bears are in the Arctic; penguins are in Antarctica.
*Your dads like the park; it's very green.
*Tigers are in Asia; lions are in Africa.
My baby doesn't really respond. He does a little dance with his arms, part-maestro, part-yoga-instructor.
***
Feeding is an art. The problem is that the baby falls asleep mid-bottle. So you have to tickle the soles of his feet. Then the feeding resumes. But the baby's attention will seem to wander, so you have to be coy; you have to pretend to remove the bottle from the baby's mouth. Just one little tug, and the baby snaps to attention. He decides he *does* want milk. The grass is always greener....
***
After a pushy guy circumcises your baby, you must begin applying rings of bacitracin to the penis. The bacitracin inevitably migrates toward the baby's foot, the baby's hair, the baby's thigh. A ring seems actually impossible; the bacitracin wants to poke its head out of the tube, then freeze itself, or even retreat.
Wailing begins; a pacifier sails across the room. An exposed, angry baby-penis stares up at you.
Maybe there is peeing, now, or maybe a soiled diaper is sliding off the keekaroo peanut.
I'd just like to paint this picture--here--because it's something I haven't found, elsewhere, in the books I've read.
And don't expect to find "that" book. Just take the advice of my grandson, Miles and give the penis a name. Much easier, then, to assign blame, shame and praise.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I'll try to write THAT book on bacatracin!
ReplyDelete