mirrored shades - the eye reflects, vol 4
you know theres something weird going on when your 5 week old child gives you that look. you know the one im talking about. the "are you on drugs or something?" look.
its just one of those new dad things to do... trying anything you can think of to make your baby laugh. big toothless baby grins are damn funny! so you find yourself making noises and faces that dont make any sense at all, just hoping to get a smile. and instead you get the look. then of course comes that whole baby-attempting-to-talk thing. you know, the flailing around, kicking, punching, waving an arm, kicking again, all the while, mouth open, staring intently, breathing heavily and quickly and then suddenly not exhaling... working incredibly hard and long just to get out "aaah" once.
and of course, shes saying, "theres something wrong with you, dad. take your medicine."
i sat for 6 weeks trying to come up with some good funny baby story to post, and couldnt come up with anything. after a mildly traumatic birth, and some other stressing new baby stuff that followed, i just couldnt think of anything. i figure, its not the big stories that are funny, its the little stuff.
i mean, whats not funny about being pooped on? i mean funny for you to know that ive been pooped on, not you getting pooped on.
ive been pooped on, peed on, puked on, all that good stuff. lifting up her little naked (lack of a) butt to wipe and replace the diaper, and hearing the fart and seeing a little poop-projectile. thats funny stuff! or seconds after removing a diaper, seeing a little fountain start up, and thinking "oh thank god youre not a boy." having her fuss and get angry, and nothing works to console, until the bowel-blast rings out with a furious rumble that can put anything i could produce right to shame, followed by a couple of aftershocks. and knowing that there was something that came out with them. realizing that the first thing she likes to do with a fresh diaper is soil it as soon as possible.
watching my wife squeezing the air out of the little disposable bottle-bag through the bottles nipple while sitting in the stands at a high school football game, not paying attention, and firing a thin geyser of boob-juice up in the sky, only to narrowly miss raining down on a boy of about 11 in front of us. thats comedy.
seeing my baby make the same faces her mommy makes. most often in the more contented stares. knowing this, and assuming that the daddy faces she makes must be when she cries or is pooping. i mean, the happy ones are already narrowed out, what else does it leave?
as an artist i really enjoy watching her looking hard at some normal, every day object like a ceiling fan, and realizing that shes really seeing it for the first time. its strange to consider a ceiling fan with new eyes.
on the other hand, its just as likely that shes thinking "if i look away long enough, and pretend to focus my attention elsewhere, maybe he will shut up and stop making that stupid face at me." thats what i would think anyway. daddys little girl must too.