Infant Times

I’m hungry, and poopy. I don’t care about salivating on my bib. I see Ma through the door, and crave for her attention. I wish she’d know, she’d understand, the source of all my troubles, my ravenous little stomach. I cry my lungs out till she comes and picks me up in her loving arms. I need the attention. I really do. I yearn to play peek-a-boo. It makes me laugh. She’s probably the only grown one who knows what I want. She peeks and boos. I giggle. It’s the best game ever.

Soon, Neighbour Aunt walks in. I hate her you know. She pulls my cheeks as though they were a dough of flour. She declares, “I could cuddle him to death.” OMG, I need to get away from that grown one. She is large, with huge scary eyes. I tug at her sari and spit, then wriggle out. She thinks I’m being a naughty baby. Get a life, woman. I’m not naughty, just nauseated by your presence.

I spend the rest of the day, biting unidentified objects, and picking up things from the floor. I don’t like the sound of rattles. I want to explore, be on my own. I want to get my finger through the three-holed gap in the wall. For some odd reason, all the grown ones scream in unison when I’m about to. Damn them, maybe next time.

Pa took me to the window. It’s really big outside. Many grown ones. They don’t crawl. Many colourful boxes grown ones sit in, they’re all on circles. I think the circles are red in colour. Or that’s what Ma was saying.

Tia has come home. She is my size. And cute. I like her. Neighbour Aunt doesn’t spare her cheeks too. One day when I get larger, I will have my revenge. I give Tia my toys. She gives me her rosy smile. Aww. I think the colour five really suits her.

I’m tired. Ma puts me in my favourite place at home. It goes up and down. I feel ticklish. I want to be here all day. She sings me a song, something like Rockamybabyonthetreetop. It makes me sleepy. I’m off. To another world. To where I know more than grown ones do. Where they speak squealish and live simple. To where milk is the only food and laughing is the only occupation. Hmmm….