*The following is a short story told from the point of view of a 10 month old baby girl, well loved to the point some may consider her spoiled.*
You Slap, I Slap Jack
I was having quite the rough morning. I have some new teeth coming in, and no one seems to understand just how uncomfortable it is to finally be getting these things. Mama should know, she’s got a huge mouth full of them. She’s supposed to understand the pain I’m in. But she doesn’t. And on this particular morning I found this quite vexing (another word I bet you didn’t think I knew).
I tried communicating to Mama that I wasn’t happy. When she finally figured it out she picked me up and sat me on her lap and just looked at me. I don’t know why she thinks that’s good enough. I don’t want to just sit on her lap. That’s lame. I mean, I know I kept her up most of the night and the sun had only barely risen itself, but seriously? Mamas have an unending supply of energy, so the blank stare I was receiving from her just wasn’t cool.
Then she did the unthinkable. She moved my hair out of my face! That was it! I couldn’t take it anymore. Mama should know better. She should know that when I’m fussy I don’t want my face touched, especially to move my mop of hair out of my eyes! So, I did what any 10 month old baby would do in this situation.
I slapped her.
Right on her cheek. Hard. Really hard. Like I pulled my arm back, aimed, and fired. And nailed it.
She didn’t react how I expected her to. Mama was mad. Really mad.
Mama took my hand, the one that I just used to slap her, and she spanked my hand and told me something about not hitting Mama or something crazy like that. I cried so that maybe she would feel sorry for me.
It didn’t work. She just stared at me with her eyebrows raised.
So I tried something new.
I grabbed her hand and spanked it twice just like she does to me. And then I chuckled, followed up by a whimper. It was golden!
Or so I thought. Mama didn’t think so, though I do think I caught a slight glimmer of a smile when I chuckled.
Mama stayed firm though and took my hand again and told me that I’m not supposed to hit Mama, blah blah blah.
I wanted her to see how much fun it can be though, so I took her hand again after she had spanked mine again, and I spanked her hand again twice.
I think I was getting through to her, there was a little bit more of a smile the second go around.
Maybe next time she’ll know not to move my hair out of my eyes when I’m fussy, teething, and tired. Sheesh, Mamas.