Thank you, Baila, for understanding my need to get some of my ideas out. It was a good idea you had, that I should write a blog to celebrate my first birthday.
Apparently there was poem written, ostensibly "in my honor," though I believe I was muchly mocked. I wouldn't know; I can't read. In any case, I thought I should set some things straight, and Mom was able to tear herself away from her precious computer for a few brief moments to let me share my thoughts.
(Oh, how I compete with that computer. And you should see her! If I fall on my face, does she care? Not a whit! "Oh, you're okay, you're okay," she says, but if the Internet is down, now THAT is a tragedy. "Quick, quick we have to fix it!" she cries frantically.)
Anyway...uh oh, hold on a sec....Mom, where are you going??? I know you said I could use the computer, but you're not going to leave the room, are you? You know that you must be within my grabbing distance every waking moment!
Okay, that's better. So let's begin.
"He doesn't sleep through the night." Um, the night is like, a really long time to be by myself. Of course I want to get up in the middle and have some time with Mom. Also, I don't have to share her with the other 3 kids (Ariella, Yaakov, and Laptop.) It's just us. Also also, she kvetches a good game, but I'm in bed by 7:30, so I get a nice long stretch of sleep until I wake up at 2 or 3 or 4. Is there anything stopping her from going to sleep at 7:30? In fact, I think she'd be a lot less grumpy if she started on the Nadav Sleep Plan.
But nooooo, she has to wait for the other person, I like to call him Not Mommy, to come home and they eat dinner and watch TV together. (I know this because in the early days, I was able to join them for these evenings. No longer, my friends, no longer.)
"He's a picky eater." I look at it this way: I've reached the peak! Instead of spending weeks, months, years figuring out what foods I like and don't like, I'm finished! I got it all covered. Yogurt, fruit, cheddar cheese, Waffle Crisp, and cake. What's so wrong with that? I'm not a picky eater if you just only, and always, give me what I like! And then when they try to sneak in some chicken or meat, they complain...
"He spits out food and throws it on the floor." Well, duh! If you'd already put in the hard work of figuring out your dietary needs for the rest of your forseeable future, and then someone came along and tried to mess with that, you'd have some words, too! But I don't have any words. So I spit and throw.
"He flings his toys." Yes, I do! What a rush!
"He tries to climb into the toilet." Well, they shouldn't have made it baby-sized if they didn't want babies to climb in it. That seems pretty obvious. Same thing with toys. If you don't want me to put it in my mouth, don't make it so temptingly small! It's common sense, folks.
Oh, and then she "plays" with me by sitting on the floor and flipping through a magazine while I entertain myself, thank you very much. It's no wonder I have to invent games like Eat the Marker and Tissue Toss. I'm totally on my own!
So that's all I gotta say. It's time for us to take naps, part of the Nadav Sleep Plan - wait, what's that? You don't all sleep in the afternoon? Ahhh, that does explain a lot about the grumpiness.... anyway, I'll check in with you all later. Thanks for listening. And remember, let's keep this between us, shall we?
The granola of my discontent
1 day ago