Butthead Baby

I'm going to catch a lot of flak for the title of this post but I'm okay for that; I'm prepared for it even. Bring it on, if you like but first read this post and then tell me you disagree with me if you can.

My baby is wonderful, ahead of the curve for brilliance, and cute. I do not deny, refute, or wish to change any of those three things. My baby, on the other hand, is a baby, and babies are all buttheads. For example, my cute little girl will be sound asleep enjoying the quiet solitude of her Calming Vibrations shaky chair when a small little sound will escape, often becoming a longer, grosser, more wet sounding sound that means it's time to change the baby.

No big deal, really. I've quickly become an experienced diaper changer (and dads, you will too, if you know what's best for you) to the point where the thought of it doesn't even squick me out anymore; I just change the diaper and clean her up.

And then she poops in it again within 5 minutes. Wetter, longer, dirtier.

Butthead.

Or how about when I'm holding her during the day, lulling her to sleep with rocking, lullabies, rocking lullabies and whatever else works. I get her to sleep in my arms and wait five to ten minutes before I put her down to rest so that I can do things like clean the kitchen or * other things that need doing around the house. By the time I stand up her eyes are open and she's wide awake, looking around to find where her comfy pillow went and letting me know that if the comfy pillow doesn't return? Tears. Tears, wailing, and badness that will make Daddy feel like a horrible Daddy.

Oh, and did I mention she's learning how to manipulate Mommy and Daddy? Oh, yes. I noticed the other day that sometimes she cries just to be looked at.

No, seriously.

She's happy because there's a camera pointed at her.

I'll be playing a game with Lois and everything will be hunky-dory. She'll laugh, coo, and have a great time. Laura will ask my opinion on something and so I'll look away for just a few moments. Within those few moments Lois has decided that she needs my attention and she starts to wail like a banshee; signalling that not only is someone going to die, SHE is dying. Of loneliness.

The moment I look back, our eyes meet and she's smiling again, cooing quietly as though nothing was ever wrong with the world. She just wants attention and if I don't give it then once again I am a horrible father and how could I ever think differently?

So not only is my daughter a butthead, she is a diva butthead.

*She took this opportunity to wake up and start crying, going from "full and content" to "starving baby" in the space of 13 seconds. I actually wrote most of the beginning of this with her in my arms but had placed her in her chair just as I started this particular paragraph. I'm typing this footnote roughly 20 minutes later.