Devil Baby turns three today. Sadly, she's afflicted with the second
child syndrome. In other words, we've been there, done that as parents and
don't have the same energy as we did the first time around, so the balance of equality is slightly skewed.
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I googled baby serial killer images and there was nothing good.
So I googled babies with hatchets and machetes. Again, nothing.
So I googled babies with knives. This will have to do. |
In her honor I've compiled a list of why she may not turn
out quite right:
1. There are no printed pictures of Devil Baby. When Fifi
was born, I had professional pictures taken of her every 3 months to document
her cuteness and growth. There are boxes full of these pictures and other
candid snapshots we took. I took Devil Baby for studio pictures once and never
went back. Other than that, the only prints of her are on Christmas photo cards
and class photos taken at her pre-school.
2. She has never had
a big birthday party. Fifi's first few birthday parties were lavish events
complete with petting zoos, ponies, bounce houses, magicians, pricey bakery
cakes and lengthy guest lists. When Devil Baby turned one, we had a few close
friends over and I made homemade cupcakes. (Despite rumors, I did not simply
toss a capri-sun and a cupcake into her crib.) My new motto is it's about quality
not quantity, so a simple family event with cake is sufficient. But boy will
she be pissed when she sees pictures of her sister's soirees.
3. Birthday presents are typically re-gifted items from
around the house, such as leftover school supplies and old toys re-wrapped.
Everything old is new again. She's only three, so she probably won't realize items aren't brand new for another year or two.
4. Her babyhood nicknames include 'Devil Baby' and 'fucking
baby.' In my defense, we do not call her fucking baby directly. It was mostly used as an exasperated expression when she
was a newborn and would wake us all up
for a 3 am bottle or when she writes on the wall with markers and I loudly sigh
and exclaim fucking baby!
5. Sometimes, when she's playing with our cats or approaching strange animals, I tell her to be careful because they will eat her face.
6. When Fifi was a baby, I took her to the play area at the mall regularly and enrolled her in ballet and dance as a toddler. Devil Baby is lucky to get a trip to the park
once in a blue moon.
7. She sometimes hisses "I'll kill you" in a
terrifying guttural voice. Granted I sometimes sarcastically yell "I'll
kill you!" at Wiener when he does something maddening, but it's usually in
a high pitched voice followed by laughter and not in the demonic growl of a
psychopath.
8. There's an iPad app called Talking Ginger where you talk
to a sweet kitty and it repeats what you say. She argues with it fervently and
is driven mad by it repeating her words in what she perceives is a high pitched
taunting manner, so she starts stomping on the iPad and frothing at the mouth.
9. Unlike her sister, she wasn't breastfed. My explanation
to others is that I didn't breastfeed her because I never seemed to produce enough milk the first
time around, so I didn't want her to be deprived. But we all know the real
reason is that I'm just too lazy and that shit hurts like hell.
10. She likes to take off her princess dress and say "It's
naked party time!" That may lend itself more to a profession as a stripper
rather than a serial killer, but it is still troublesome. Although, she could
become a serial killer stripper. She'd lure her victims with promises of
stripping, then kill them. I may have gone too far. But hey, if stripping pays
for college, so be it. I must protect my vodka money by any means necessary.
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Impish grin or maniacal mastermind?
You decide. |
Happy 3rd birthday, my wonderfully weird Devil Baby. The
world is your oyster. (Please don't become a serial killer.)
