Friday, November 02, 2001
Since last week, mom lets me sit in a ergonomic wooden chair while I eat. I feel quite comfortable about my new chair. I'm sitting way high above the surface with it (up to Grownup-level) and it actually feels like a little throne: you can see in my way of sitting I'm thinking of it as a throne as well (I now see my parents as my true servants - "Bow your head!"). In this chair I dream I have the power to decide about life and death (thumb up - thumb down).
What I appreciate most about my new chair, is the freedom of movement I get. This is especially very useful during dinner: there are many possibilities to avoid the spoon now. I can turn my head away, I can move my body to the sides, I can lift or lower my head. And since there's a lot more to see from this height, there are many reasons to look elsewhere.
Another event that puts me into my throne: while mom and dad eat, so they can keep an eye on me. I'm doing the best I can to make their meal not a relaxed one. To keep me busy, there are some toys put on a little platform in front of me. That's when I play my little game. It's called Speedy Drop and the purpose of the game is to drop all toys as fast as possible.
While M&D think I'm practicing my hand-mind coordination with it, I grab a toy, hang it out of my chair and release it. It looks like I'm not doing this on purpose: sometimes I even look elsewhere while I do this. After a toy fell down, I look surprised over the border of my chair towards the ground, searching for the lost toy, a bit like a captain of his ship, searching for the man that fell overboard.
M&D then do the best they can to give me back my toys, so that I can start all over. However, they are allowed to eat in between my toydroppings.
Tuesday, October 30, 2001
You know I'm the cutest antichrist, so one day you would expect some physical signs of this. You probably think about little horns on my head right now. This is where I expected to change first, but the only thing growing on my head are my (beautiful blonde) hairs (if you combine this with my shiny blue eyes, I would have been very popular back in the 40's). Growing hairs don't hurt.
More generally, growing doesn't hurt. My arms, leggies, tummy, they change gradually and suddenly you wake up in bed and you've become a Grownup (your worst nightmare came true) However, there's something else going on. There is something growing and it sure as hell is from evil origin, because it hurts very badly. The strange thing is: it's not on my head (horns), it's not on my butt (tail) and it's not in my feet (legs of a goat). It's in my mouth. But it's also not a tongue made to suck somebody's soul out of his mind.
Moreover, I haven't got a clue what it is. I figured I had everything I need in my mouth to live a successful life. I can eat everything with it, from milk to mush, no problem. So it must be a thing foreign to the body. A giant bacterium thingy (the ones you actually can see)? A cookie that got stuck?
The epicentre of pain is situated behind my lower lip. It hurts. It itches. It's under the surface and it lurks to come out of its shelter. It makes me wanna scratch the inside of my mouth with objects. It wakes me up during the night, screaming from pain (although it takes 15 seconds before I sleep again). It makes me look funny, because I try to suck it out with my lips. Last night, mom and dad were very amused by the noise I produced because the pain entered in my sleep and altered my dreams. This noise was related to almost ultrasonic singing. I might have excited some female bats by accident (I apologize to them for the confusion).
I remember: it's a tooth! I talked about it several weeks ago, but I forgot. No wonder, I'm 6 months old now, one can forget a lot during such a long period.
Monday, October 29, 2001
I am Feyo! My name is Feyo! You have to call me Feyo! Why do I emphasize this? Because the old guy seems to forget my name! Every day, I hear different names he gives me. He wants to ridicule me in order to undermine my authority. I'll give you some examples of terms he used to name me. Never ever use these terms when I'm around or you can scrape your face of the wall...
- Quicky: because of my speedy movements, you should never let something in my neighbourhood for more then a second.
- Grabby: because I tend to grab everything close enough to grab.
- Froggy: because if I'm on my tummy, I get on my knees and make some kind of strange jump in the direction of an almost-within-reach object, where I can be Quicky and Grabby again.
- Freak or Focus: because if I see something I want, I focus on it, my eyes can't stop staring at it, my hands reach for it and act like a madman to get it.
- Clumsy or Rudy: because I can be very clumsy, especially when there are parts of the human body involved: I grab noses, I kick eyes, I pull hairs, I do whatever I can to give those Grownups a hard time.
Tonight, I tore daddy's hair, I smacked his eye, I almost jumped off his lap, I stared at him for a very long time, just to remind him Quicky, Grabby, Froggy, Freak, Focus, Clumsy, Rudy, they're all me, Feyo!
Last Friday, we celebrated my half-anniversary. That's right: I'm 6 months now, and it's not a coincidence that a Belgian princess was born exactly 6 months after my day of birth. I presume special people are born all over the world at regular intervals. Of course, they cannot be as important as me, but being born as a princess is not so bad. It's a good start.
Maybe Elisabeth (that's her name) was predestined to marry me. It would be easier to bring chaos in the hard of many by starting as a king of a tiny country: first we take Belgium, then the European Community (this cannot be that hard since there isn't a lot of community in the Community - neat, the Euro-coin with my head on...) Anyway, I wish Elisabeth good luck with her parents. I guess her Old Man Filip is not a Nerd (I suppose a servant scans for new e-mail, filters the interesting ones and reads them to him), but I'm not sure if his mind is at the same spot as his body. He surely has a lot of power, because nobody at the hospital dared to say you cannot wash a fresh-born baby; this is not good for the child. None of this is my business of course, but I'm concerned about my possibly future bride.
The good thing about the combination of half-a-birhtday and people that are fond of you, is: you get presents! Grandma gave me a plastic caterpillar on wheels, in fancy colours. It featured two loose particles on the back you can put into your mouth very easily. Cool! This was a very impressive gift, from now on the mental picture of a caterpillar contains wheels. I expect all future caterpillars to be like that.
Mom gave me some kind of carpet with a lot of colourfull, moving and noisy particles. Cool too! It must have been very expensive (that's what dad sayed). Even dad didn't forget my birthday (well, after grandma had given me my present he remembered). He bought me a (cheap) hairy huggable book. I liked the plastic package of it the most. Cool package!