1 Mother 2 Another

I have a feeling this is one of the
entries that will get me in a lot of trouble when my
daughter’s old enough to be embarrassed –


All babies have gas; it’s a fact of life. As our pediatrician
says, “All that air babies swallow is going to come out one
end or the other!” I remember Maddie was a pretty decent
pooter, and we got so used to it that we hardly noticed when it
happened, until of course she let loose in public and all the
non-parents looked at us, startled and mortified.


But Cora is in another class altogether.

I’m telling you, this kid has more
hot air in her than a Presidential debate. And she’s not the
type to drop the Silent But Deadlies; she boldly lets rip with a
full symphony of noises. Frequently. Even while nursing,
she’ll feel the need to make some room for that food coming
in.


She’s got a patented “gun” technique that’s
quite effective; her little body will curl up like a pill bug on
the boppy, which I’ve come to learn is a warning. Her face
will tense in concentration. “HNG!” she’ll grunt,
curling her legs up even closer and arching her back, firing her
hiney out as she lets one rip. “Hmmm,” she’ll coo
contentedly, then go back to nursing.


My favorite is her twenty-one-gun salute, usually while sitting
upright on someone’s lap. She’ll look you in the eye
and smile disarmingly, release a rapid-fire stream of noxious pops,
and continue to coo innocently, smiling at you through the fog of
gas surrounding her as if to say, “What? Did you say
something?” Meanwhile you try not to keel over from the
smell.


I’m telling you, that little body packs quite a wallop.
Weapon of mass destruction? Maybe not. But that hiney can clear a
room in under ten seconds.