Lately our six-month old daughter has started the Rooster Act up again. She seems to take immense pleasure in screeching at the top of her lungs. I don’t think she’s necessarily trying to get our attention (although sometimes when we glance over, she’s got a big grin on her face!). She thinks it’s just great to be able to “express herself.” Oh my.
She is cute. I can’t deny that. And if I ever started to doubt, I would quickly be reminded of it by the number of strangers who stop and stare at her, touch her feet, tousle her hair, and otherwise prevent me from accomplishing menial tasks when we’re out. I mean, what mom actually needs to get the groceries done, or make it to the bathroom, or talk to someone on the other side of the building? We really just exist to parade The Cuteness around.
My favorite is a recent trip I made to the gym. Usually, my daughter sleeps in her car seat while I do a 30-minute walk on the treadmill. But on this particular day, she decided that instead of sleeping she wanted to get out. I was determined to get my exercise in, so for a good 5 minutes I bounced on and off the treadmill, putting the pacifier back in her mouth, jingling my keys, and making faces. When that failed to impress, I reluctantly took her out of the seat and walked with her to the bikes. For the next 15 minutes I held her on my lap (a misnomer, because she refuses to simply be “held” – instead, she bounced, danced, wiggled, and squirmed while I resolutely set my face and got my full 30 minutes in). At the end of my “workout,” a well-meaning woman came up to the bike next to me. She obviously hadn’t witnessed the previous half-hour, as she smiled sweetly and commented, “What a cutie. She is such a mellow baby.”
Mellow, my foot.
But we love her. Rooster screeching and all.
This post was written in response to “How kids have made your life zoo-ey” at ParentBloggers.com, promoting a new learn-to-read program in partnership with Generation Next and the San Diego Zoo.
She is cute. I can’t deny that. And if I ever started to doubt, I would quickly be reminded of it by the number of strangers who stop and stare at her, touch her feet, tousle her hair, and otherwise prevent me from accomplishing menial tasks when we’re out. I mean, what mom actually needs to get the groceries done, or make it to the bathroom, or talk to someone on the other side of the building? We really just exist to parade The Cuteness around.
My favorite is a recent trip I made to the gym. Usually, my daughter sleeps in her car seat while I do a 30-minute walk on the treadmill. But on this particular day, she decided that instead of sleeping she wanted to get out. I was determined to get my exercise in, so for a good 5 minutes I bounced on and off the treadmill, putting the pacifier back in her mouth, jingling my keys, and making faces. When that failed to impress, I reluctantly took her out of the seat and walked with her to the bikes. For the next 15 minutes I held her on my lap (a misnomer, because she refuses to simply be “held” – instead, she bounced, danced, wiggled, and squirmed while I resolutely set my face and got my full 30 minutes in). At the end of my “workout,” a well-meaning woman came up to the bike next to me. She obviously hadn’t witnessed the previous half-hour, as she smiled sweetly and commented, “What a cutie. She is such a mellow baby.”
Mellow, my foot.
But we love her. Rooster screeching and all.
This post was written in response to “How kids have made your life zoo-ey” at ParentBloggers.com, promoting a new learn-to-read program in partnership with Generation Next and the San Diego Zoo.