Diary Of A 9 Month Old

Last month I posted a thought experiment on what a baby would blog about if he was ever allowed to play with my iPad. Believe me, he tries. I had so much fun writing it that I decided to make it a monthly installation. So, without further ado, the much anticipated sequel to Diary Of An 8 Month Old.

6:30 am – It’s the same story every morning; It’s too dark in my room, the house is too quiet, and I’m bored. I have no choice but to stand up in my crib and jump up and down yelling at the top of my lungs. Why am I the only person who appreciates this urge? Mommy looks unimpressed as she appears in my doorway. Her hair is sticking up on one side and plastered too her scowling face on the other side. She sighs loudly as she enters the room. Somebody is NOT a morning person. I decide to wait until nap time to point out the bars on the crib where I’ve managed to gnaw off the paint.

7:00 am – Breakfast time. Fruit and yogurt. They’ve finally given up trying to force me to choke down those disgusting concoctions of foods that have no business being in the same meal together, let alone the same spoon. Would you eat a peanut butter, tuna, and beet sandwich? No? Well then why should I have to eat peas, raisins, broccoli, and parsnips for breakfast? No, thank you. Mommy commences the shoveling of the yogurt while cooking breakfast for my brother. In the last few days, my nose has started producing and distributing it’s own green yogurt. I try to tell Mom that I can feed myself this morning. How efficient would that be? But she doesn’t seem to understand. Just think, Mommy, it’s definitely organic. She wipes it away with a tissue. What a waste.

8:00 am – My brother is now running from mom who is trying to put a very thin, cotton, diaper called “underpants” on him. He is yelling “NO PANTS” and laughing, so I assume it is some sort of game. I’m not sure about the rules, but I want to play too! I know it began in the bathroom, so I’ll start there. By the time I reach the doorway, Mommy has caught my brother and confined him to his chair for breakfast. He must be in some sort of time out. Maybe if I join in, I can rescue him.

8:15 am- I drag myself along the floor until I reach the toilet, pull myself to a standing position, and peer inside. I can hear Mommy starting to look for me. I haven’t much time. What did I come in here for again? I’ll just start unrolling this paper next to the toilet. It’s so conveniently located. It must belong inside the toilet anyway. I’ll just help Mommy out and put it all back in the water.

8:20 am – I’m back in the playpen again. I must not be very good at this game; I seem to end up here a lot. Mommy is using some sort of rubber cup on the end of a stick to poke the toilet. There is water everywhere. She looks wet. On second thought, maybe I’m winning.

9:00 am – Nap time. It creeps up on me every morning and before I know it I’m back in that wooden prison my parents call a bed. What they don’t know is that I’ve hatched a plan to escape by chewing through the bars. As soon as she leaves, I’ll get started on…zzzzz

11:30 am – Curses. My plan will have to wait until next nap. Besides, I seem to have done a poop in my sleep.

12:00 pm – Since breakfast, I’ve decided that highchairs are for sissies and insist on eating my lunch while unsteadily holding on to my brother’s train table with one hand. I hear any calories you eat while standing up don’t count. Not to mention all the exercise Mommy will be getting as she chases me down for each and every bite. Really, I’m doing her a favor. The trains that drive on this table must be really important because my brother has put them all on very high shelves while he eats his lunch. A less creative man might be frustrated by the lack of available vehicles, but not me. I’ll just grab a piece of peanut butter and jelly sandwich and drive it through the tunnel. Hmm. It’s stuck. Well, Mommy thinks I ate it and my brother will have a surprise later, so I’d say it’s a win-win.

2:30 pm- I can’t imagine why, but Mommy seems anxious to put me down for another nap. I yell for a few minutes after she deposits me in bed, but mostly out of obligation. I wouldn’t want to set a precedent I’ll have to live up to later. But really, I’m happy to go to sleep…

2:40 pm – Wait. I have to poop.

5:00 pm – I wake up hungry and angry. Mommy rushes up stairs to calm me, but I am inconsolable. Cheese. I need cheese! Instead she hands me to Daddy, who has just returned from work. For a moment I forget my hunger and am giddy at the prospect of smearing peanut butter mixed with snot on his freshly pressed suit. I grin, showing him all six of my teeth. He melts and pulls me in for a hug. Mission accomplished. I smudge it down the back of his shoulder. He’ll never even notice.

6:00 pm – What shall I do first? Well, obviously that puzzle that my brother built will have to go. He needs to learn to think outside the box anyway. He’s too structured. I’ll just stuff one of the pieces down the heater vent. Now he’ll have to use his imagination. Mommy quickly retrieves the puzzle piece from the air duct. What an enabler. Next, I think I’ll pull all the track down off the train table. No reason, really. It just looks like so much fun. Nailed down? Touché, mother. The toys seem particularly well guarded today, so instead I’ll turn my attention to the dog’s bowls. Oh look, kibble!

6:05 pm – Note to self. Do not eat kibble. Must wash tongue. Oh look, water!

6:10 pm – Now I’m cold.

7:00 pm – As Mom quietly sings me off to sleep, I replay my day in my head. Crawling, tasting dog food, stealing toys, hiding sandwiches, dumping water on my head, eating lots and lots of cheese, and smearing food everywhere. It’s been a day of fun and firsts. Like every day. A 9 month old’s life is definitely lived in the fast lane. I wonder what’s in store for tomorrow. I have been looking at the stairs lately. They look like fun. Or maybe the doggy door. The possibilities are endless.