As we all know, Pavlov was right with his dogs and all. But it also holds true for babies. Sirs Guy and Miles have begun a strange ritual wherein they do a special dance whenever the serviette (our hotsy-totsy word for a burp-cloth) is placed on their chest in advance of their bottle. It can only be described as a kind of undulating break dance move (I know, because I could do something similar back in 1984) with their mouths open in urgent expectation like this:
So, this is a representation of the mind of a six-and-a-half-month-old around feeding time:
1) [*vague urge begins*] Wasn't their something called a bottle? Didn't I like it? I wonder when it will come to me again. Hmmmmmzzzzzzzz.......
2) [*urge becomes more urgent*] Okay, I wasn't kidding around. I kinda would like to have that bottle-thing again. Hello? Are you listening to me? Fine, I'll crap in my pants to get your attention...
3) [*urge become obsession*] bottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottlebottle.......
4) [*obsession leads to fury*] Where the f_ck is my BOTTLE!!!!!!!!!
5) [*fury leads to utter despair*] There will never be another bottle. All is lost. I'll just curl up here in the corner of my bed, like a farty little croissant, and try to suck on my fingers for a little nourishment. My minutes are numbered...
6) [*magic serviette is placed upon them*] JOY! THE BOTTLE COMETH AFTER ALL!
7) [*cue the Pavlovian Wiggle Dance*]
By the way, I'm eating nachos for breakfast.
2 comments:
I love it! Both the baby-translation and that you're having nachos for breakfast. I approve.
Hilarious!
So fortunate that babies endlessly replenish one's sense of humor, since they also do so much to erode it :-)
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