WITH LOVE FROM KELLY
This
is a story with a difference. For it has been written by a baby. Well,
not really a baby . . . but an enterprising person who has put herself
in a baby's place.
Dear Aunty Ann,
(Is it OK if I call you Aunty?) I just thought I would write and let you know that I am keeping Mum and Dad on their toes. I might even write a book about it - A Day in the Life of Kelly Brooke. I'm six and a half weeks old, and I still haven't managed to get my Mum and Dad into a routine; they really are a couple of amateurs at the art of child rearing, which means that I have a lot of fun.
I remember before I was born Mum used to read a book called Baby and Child and every now and again she would say "This sounds like a good idea. We'll do it when the baby is born."
I don't know what has happened to the book, but I now have a dummy instead, which Daddy has threatened to super glue into my mouth.
When I left the hospital, Mum was told if I cry (don't they mean "when"!), I'm either hungry, wet, or tired.
Well, for the first four weeks every time that I made a noise I was snatched out of my warm crib; they didn't even notice if my eyes were open or shut. Then I would be force fed and it was either swallow or choke, then I was bashed viciously on the back ("she must have wind").
By this time, I'm really awake. No wind. My nappy is then taken off (Mum saying "I hate this, I'll never get used to it"), and a dry one put on, and now I'm really tired. You would think after all the books that they've read they would know that babies cry in their sleep.
Mum and Dad hate getting up for my early morning feeds, but I do like my snacks at 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. and it's not my fault that it takes them 2 hours to feed, wind, and change me, and by the time they get me to sleep it's time to wake up again.
I can read Mum's mind. When she puts me to bed she waits, and when she's sure I've gone to sleep she rolls onto her stomach. Then I start just loud enough to be heard and I can just imagine Mum thinking: "Please go to sleep Kelly!" I slowly get louder (Dad's pretending he can't hear a thing) and louder - it's really rather a penetrating noise.
Next minute, I'm up getting a cuddle and a bit more to drink, all the time Mum is thinking "You can't be hungry, you can't have wind, you've got a dry nappy. What is the matter?" But when I want a cuddle or company I don't care if it's morning or night, and besides, TV is really good in the early hours.
Poor old Mum was the worse for wear with all this up and down, so I thought I'd give her a break and skip my 1 a.m. feed. Heard her at 1.30 a.m. wake up and shake Dad saying "Kelly hasn't woken up: go and check her." Boy, did she panic! Poor Dad staggered in, only to see me fast asleep and (much to Mum's amazement) still breathing.
She didn't sleep for the rest of the night - in every half hour to see if I was OK. Boy, is she ungrateful! I try to give her a break, and she wakes up anyway!
I tried sleeping through the night for a week or so, but it was such a hassle being checked every five minutes I gave up, and am now back to 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. Poor Dad is often woken up by Mum and sent in to check me (you know what - he doesn't wear pyjamas!)
During the day, Mum doesn't mind if I want to stay up. She even tries singing to me which is enough to stop anyone going to sleep and damage my ear drums for life.
At first I thought Mum was disorganised because of lack of sleep, but now I get the feeling she has always been pretty bad. Once I didn't get my bath until 10.30 ... p.m., not a.m., but it was fun; I pretended I was skinny dipping. Once Dad nearly had to wrap me in newspaper as I had no nappies left. I mean I've got three dozen, but she was so far behind, she had some in the washing machine, some in the bucket, and some waiting to go in the bucket.
I have had a bit of a growth spurt lately and now weigh nine pounds. I always seem to be hungry. Dad wanted to get a drip put in my arm which I thought was a good idea but Mum said no. Dad's pretty cool - he doesn't worry as much as Mum. He tells me neat stories - really scary ones. He often threatens to do horrible things to me, but I know he's only joking. He wanted to draw a pair of glasses and a moustache on me, but spoilsport Mum wouldn't let him, although he managed to draw a ring on my finger when she wasn't looking. He wanted to go to classes so he could learn to hypnotise me, but Mum wouldn't let him. She was frightened he wouldn't be able to wake me up again.
Because Mum and Dad have been so dedicated to me and cater to my every whim, I decided to smile. What a mistake! It nearly ended my short life. Mum nearly dropped me, yelling "Craig, Craig, Craig" (that's my Dad's name.) Poor Dad came running in a panic crying "what? what?" "Kelly smiled at me!" She was so proud, but I mean, really, it was no big deal. I would have done it ages ago, but the book says that I have to wait until I am four or five weeks old and I didn't want Mum to think she had a genius on her hands. Anyway, even if I did smile earlier, they would have said it was just wind. My first major milestone has been entered into my Baby Book. Apparently the next thing for me to do is roll over. I'm going to make sure Mum is sitting down when I do it, or I could be dropped from a great height when she runs to get the Baby Book.
Well, I'd better leave some room for Mum to write. I think I might wake up now. I know it's not time, but I don't want Mum to think she's got me under control. I've decided to have wind but to let them try for two hours to work out what is wrong with me. My motto is: "Keep 'em guessing." Oh no, here comes Mum to check me again! Signing off now - love from Kelly. x x x
Art
by James, aged 4.