The house was run amok by the Bald Baby, a delightful two-year-old boy of my kind parents' friends who stayed with us over the weekend. He is, by far, the best and brightest two-year-old of my acquaintance.
He is also the only two-year-old of my acquaintance, so my judgements could be a little biased.
It's been a very wet weekend thus far. I've been sneezed on and peed on by the Bald Baby. Yes, despite the germs and the smell, he is still one very much loved boy.
The Bald Baby doesn't have much hair. In a vain attempt for his hair to grow back thicker, his mother had it all shaved off. In another vain attempt to acquire a head full of luxuriously thick locks, the Bald Baby stole his uncle's Rogaine and smeared half a bottle's worth on his head.
Have I mentioned that he is two?
This weekend, he has reinacted the story of the boy who cried wolf. Except, in the Bald Baby's case, he cries "poo".
Imagine this. A picture perfect family, with a recently borrowed two-year-old addition, sat down to a feast cooked by the matriarch. The two-year-old did not want to eat. He wanted to play on the computer and look at old videos of himself. But he was trapped.
"Poo poo!" he suddenly cried. A mass panic ensued around the dinner table. Two otherwise calm adults rushed in hysteria to fetch the potty, while the third lifted the Bald Baby off the high chair.
The Bald Baby looked around at the three mad adults surrounding him. He smiled and slowly broke into fits of giggles. While we were dazed and confused, he ran off to the computer.
Now picture this. Three very tired adults were trying to get ready for bed. One of them was especially buggered from climbing up and down the stairs with the Bald Baby because it had amused him greatly. With bountiful energy, he did not want to sleep.
"Poo poo!" he cried after two minutes lying down. Another mad dash for the potty found the Bald Baby at the computer again.
Just like the boy who cried wolf, we were smart enough not to believe him again. And just like the boy who cried wolf, the Bald Baby spoke the truth the third time around.
He is also the only two-year-old of my acquaintance, so my judgements could be a little biased.
It's been a very wet weekend thus far. I've been sneezed on and peed on by the Bald Baby. Yes, despite the germs and the smell, he is still one very much loved boy.
The Bald Baby doesn't have much hair. In a vain attempt for his hair to grow back thicker, his mother had it all shaved off. In another vain attempt to acquire a head full of luxuriously thick locks, the Bald Baby stole his uncle's Rogaine and smeared half a bottle's worth on his head.
Have I mentioned that he is two?
This weekend, he has reinacted the story of the boy who cried wolf. Except, in the Bald Baby's case, he cries "poo".
Imagine this. A picture perfect family, with a recently borrowed two-year-old addition, sat down to a feast cooked by the matriarch. The two-year-old did not want to eat. He wanted to play on the computer and look at old videos of himself. But he was trapped.
"Poo poo!" he suddenly cried. A mass panic ensued around the dinner table. Two otherwise calm adults rushed in hysteria to fetch the potty, while the third lifted the Bald Baby off the high chair.
The Bald Baby looked around at the three mad adults surrounding him. He smiled and slowly broke into fits of giggles. While we were dazed and confused, he ran off to the computer.
Now picture this. Three very tired adults were trying to get ready for bed. One of them was especially buggered from climbing up and down the stairs with the Bald Baby because it had amused him greatly. With bountiful energy, he did not want to sleep.
"Poo poo!" he cried after two minutes lying down. Another mad dash for the potty found the Bald Baby at the computer again.
Just like the boy who cried wolf, we were smart enough not to believe him again. And just like the boy who cried wolf, the Bald Baby spoke the truth the third time around.
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