By Mel Cooke, Freelance WriterDear Diary:
Bags and boxes everywhere and no Mani P.
Frankly, I would rather have her tangle my feet up than a scandal bag of no specific purpose.
Moving house is a heck of a thing. The only advantage is that you leave behind more garbage than it would have seemed possible to live with. But when you have to leave our kiddo behind until things are all set it really sucks.
Not that Her Royal Maniness is that far behind. I guess you could call her half-way there, and her grandparents seem to really enjoy having her around.
So now our lives centre around the Holy Grail of weekends.
"Oh, two days till I see Mani."
"Oh, tomorrow I see Mani."
And it's the same thing the next week. At first, C's big thing was that she would forget us -- forget her, I suspect. So, on the first weekend there was some element of doubt. "Lawd, ah wonda if she memba we!" (That's C, not I).
To my everlasting gratitude, the child was very enthusiastic -- so much so that she wouldn't sleep and we couldn't put her down.
Diary, if that hadn't happened mi ears couldn' nyam grass -- Mani's future allowance gone up by 10 per cent for that. A six-year-old should be happy with $20 a day, no true?
Of course, the telephone lines are burning. Trying to have a telephone conversation with a baby who can't speak is an interesting experience. It goes some thing like:
"Hi Mani!"
"Hmmm!"
"How are you doing?"
"Hmmm hmmm!"
"Miss Mummy?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Miss Mummy?"
"Ahhhhhhh!"
"I miss you too baby."
"Hmmm."
(There's a series of beeps as she plays with the telephone and then silence.)
"She cut me off!"
Then it's redial and the whole conversation is repeated -- many times. Same format, mostly.
But Diary, it's startling how much a one-year-old grows in five days. You leave a pickney stretching for a teddy bear on a dresser and come back to a child who is taking it up easily. Her shoes that fit perfectly a week ago can't hold her heels this weekend.
And the speech is something else, especially when she calls her grandfather "Daddy."
"M, guess what? She is calling her grandfather 'Daddy!'
"Arright."
"Me stress!"
"Arright."
So we reach and she is calling Mister M Daddy and Mrs. M and C are concerned. Me? Diary, I cool like a cucumber. And then she comes to me and says: "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" And they say "listen, listen!" Me, I"m still cool.
So now she has two daddies. Lucky girl.
NEW TRICK
So Diary, of course we get the new tricks she is up to, via telephone. She really likes to bathe and getting her out of the bucket is a chore (don't know how she manages to sit in it anyway). So Mrs. M cleans her up and changes her clothes and somebody comes to visit.
In the middle of their conversation they hear a splishin' and a splashin'. When they investigate, Mani P, fully clothed, is in the bucket happily bathing herself again, rag and all. It's funny but it's scary because she could have gone into the water and gotten into trouble. I don't even want to think about that.
Now Diary, I have a problem. She got this white dolly from her Auntie G and I saw her kissing it the other day. Star, I no pleased! I not into this white thing at all at all! Bonified I waan dash weh di dolly -- but practically still, I don't want her to learn hatred. I just don't want her to grow up with the white woman as the standard of beauty and want to diet herself to straightness to attain it (black woman, curves and all, forever!).
Ideally, she should have dollies of all races, but the black dolls I have seen are just white dolls painted over -- blue eyes and all. But every time I put that white thingy in a deep, dark corner I see it comfortably in the crib when I return.
Maybe the darn thing walks.
POTTY TRAINING
Diary, there are serious days ahead, days of stress, disgust, retching, 'bletching', scorn and things to make you go 'ahhhhhhh damn!' and wonder what the hell you were thinking when you were thinking about parenthood.
C has bought her a potty for potty training.
My skin crawls just looking at the thing in its unused state and when I touch it I feel as if my fingers, hand and arm need bleaching.
And what is Mani's reaction to her potty. She sits in it, gets up and sits in it again -- repeatedly, without encouragement. All she needs is a STAR.
I wonder who she takes after, Dear Diary?
