Feyo was born on 26th April 2001. While many of you might think he's a cute little angel (even the parents), it is not so.

Duvelke means Little Demon: indeed, Feyo is the cutest Antichrist ever!

Thursday, November 22, 2001

In the beginning there was bathing. A lot of splashing and a wet kitchen was often the result. Then mom created showering. Also a cool way of fighting bacterium thingies, especially trying to get a grip on the water escaping from the shower tap is fun.

Because mom also takes a shower together with me (and dad doesn't: this makes me wonder if dad takes any shower at all - his harddisk probably gets cleaned more often than his body.) and this means mom delegated the task of wiping me off to dad. Since I hate the towel (because it always needs to hide my face and I hate not seeing what is going on around me) I struggle and grumble until the wiping process has finished.

Then there's the clothing me-part. At this stage, I'm happy and enthusiastic again. I kick with my leggies, shake my tummy, make busy movements with my arms, I do the best I can to help daddy as much as possible. My way. My hands always got stuck in the middle of a shirt. Or it happens it takes about 5 times to put on my pyjamas. Or better, to keep on my pyjamas. While dad focuses on the right leg to cover, I take the left one out of my pyjamas. And vice versa.

I enjoy this for the time being. It seems Grownups need to clothe themselves, so I guess it's not that funny any longer to do the legswitchtrick then.

Wednesday, November 21, 2001

On Wednesday, mom is at home all day long. This is a good thing for me, because there's a heap of attention to spend. Today I got about 317 hugs, most of them accompanied by tiny kisses. However, there are times when I feel overhugged; then I stretch my arms and pull mom's head away, while turning mine away from her. Just to make myself clear.

Dad also thinks this is a good thing: in the evening he goes home, expecting a freshly prepared meal, tons of hugs, playing around... in short: pretty much the same as I do. Wishful thinking of course, because I already spent mom's energy during the day. But there's nothing wrong with a freshly prepared lasagna from the fridge.

Dad also expects the only thing he needs to do at Wednesday is drag his butt to his seat and point an eye to the television. Or maybe drag his butt to the pu and browse around the www. Gives him the (false) impression of being a world citizen and having a very fulfilled, meaningful and social life.

His fantasy comes partly true. But today there was a bitter moment, because there was still some labour to do. Not that it was hard work. Not that it took a long time to do it. But it's a dirty job. And dad got to do it, because mom was watching her favourite soap. For a moment, my Ol' Man wished it was his favourite soap too, because changing my diper was even worse then watching the soap.

This wasn't an ordinary smell. He had a very bad feeling about this. He could already notice it from meters away with closed diper. Opening my clothes only increased his suspicion. It never happened before somebody turned his head away at this fase of the diper replacent task. Finally he removed the diper. The smell was... well if you could smell radioactivity, dad was nuked by the smell. If you want to put it in a more positive way: it's amazing how such a little digestion can produce such a complex and overwhelming smell!

If you think this is it, you're wrong. Replacing a diper takes more than just take away the old one and replace it by a new. There's some cleaning work attached to it. Also, garbage collection is necessary. Replacing a coloured diper confronts you with the very basics of life itself. It can put you in a meditational trance (perhaps caused by the chemicals in the output).

It takes a lot of parental love and will power to clean such diper.

Tuesday, November 20, 2001

Damn! I prepared a little message yesterday, but guess what: the Blogger service was down at that time, publishing my message-to-the-world was impossible... I thought: "Ok, first thing to do tomorrow morning", but dad left early and as you probably remember: I need him to switch on the power of the computer before I'm able to write, webdesign, do some graphical artwork and 3D renderings.

Being able to reach the powerbutton of the Puter is the only good reason I can figure to become a Grownup.

Monday, November 19, 2001

New means of transportation

You know that I had some motoric enhancements lately. To be more precise: some very complicated movements I learned, but with little effect concerning crossed distance. In other words, those movements took me nowhere.

Until now. I master three new skills for transferring my body:

  • Rolling: the technique is quite simple, yet effective. Just lay down on your back, then roll your body to the left or right, depending on the direction you need to be (for the really-really dummies in movement: if a cute little bear is on your left side, turn to the left, if your personal Ol' Man is there, you'd better turn to the right - for the 3 times-really dummies who don't know left from right: go to bear - escape from dad).
  • Knee hopping: if you're in the famous hand-knee position (discussed earlier), you can try lean on your hands, then hop on both knees at a time. The result is a funny, yet centimeter-crossing movement. If you're lucky, you can hop to a very-near target that way. If you're unlucky, you may experience a little facial crash.
  • Launch yourself: since you're already familiar with crash situations from the second skill, you learned that the crash itself is a movement on its own. Hence you can try launching your body by stretching your legs while you're on your knees. It's very similar to previous technique, except that you don't need your hands to lean on. On the plus side, you'll notice that you can cross a huge distance in one fast movement. Downside of this: since your hands do not support your body any longer, there's a very big chance you may experience a dangerous crash. In all situations, the result is always spectacular, comparable to a human canon ball in the circus, only without a helmet (ok ok I admit, I never saw a circus in my life, but that's what dad said about it).

I wonder why you never see a Grownup hopping around or using the launch or roll technique. They must have forgotten how to move like a Pro.

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