Short stories with a comical twist on the daily obstacles, aka adventures, of parenthood

Category: Under 1 Year Old Page 1 of 8

Baby Dora playing Butterfly Concerto

Butterfly Concerto

“Eh!” I exclaim. Mommy is cleaning the table.

“Eh Eh!” I shout louder this time. Mommy finally turns around and looks at me.

“Dora! How did you get up on the piano again!? You are only 8 months old!” She runs across the living room towards me, extending her hands out as far as possible as if they can stretch like a rubber band. 

Don’t worry; I won’t fall; this is my daily exercise.

She should know by now that I have magical powers.

“Eh eh wa,” I reply. The parents like to place me on the floor but didn’t realize I am practicing for a reward.

“Eh,” I point outside the window with one finger.

She looks outside. Two beautiful yellow swallowtail butterflies are dancing in the garden, fluttering from one flower to the next. 

“Wow, good job Dora. The butterflies are so pretty, thank you for telling me,” Mommy says.

Mommy stands next to me as I bob up and down in excitement, playing Butterfly Concerto on the piano. 

“Let’s get closer,” she picks me up and walks towards the door. 

Standing in the garden, we admire the butterflies the size of Mommy’s palms. Then all of a sudden, another butterfly swoops from the sky and chases after them around the flower bushes.

After a few minutes, they flew away, the biggest one taking the lead as if saying, “Tag, you’re it!”

A Baby’s Early Puberty – The Acne Party

At 8 months old, I got my first taste of early puberty—acne of various sizes emerged from the least expected areas – Hand, Foot, and Mouth. I even felt some in my armpit and in between my buttcrack. The acne infestation resulted in a 102 fever and body aches. Every movement felt painful; even my usual magical power was useless. While the burning sensation spread from my chest to my head, my parents thought it would be fun to inject cherry syrup, called “medicine” in my mouth EVERY FEW HOURS.

Oh, my mouth, my poor mouth.

Do you know what’s worse than having two pimples in the back of your mouth that you can’t reach? – Staring at a warm bottle of milk but unable to drink it because the excruciating pain from suckling outweighs hunger. Even my favorite pacifier was useless during this week-long event while my mouth hosted the Acne Party.

Can you imagine how much screaming was involved when I was hungry, sleepy, and in pain – all day?

Luckily, after a week, the Acne Party finally packed its bags to find a new victim, leaving behind a trail of tears and scars. If this is early puberty, I can’t even imagine what teenage puberty will be like.

Can I always be a baby?

Shoe Eating is a Crime

Don’t put it in your mouth! I said to myself. 

My hands move closer to my lips. Are my hands disconnected from my brain? They are not listening to me. 

Don’t do it! I concentrate my 6-month-old brain to set those hands down. 

Mommy will be mad at you, don’t you dare! I scream internally. 

The grip got tighter. Uh Oh, this is bad.

Mommy bolts from around the corner, snatching the black sneaker out of my hands. “No, Dora! Stop eating shoes,” she exclaimed. 

I look at her, relieved. Crisis avoided… Nice save! 

She picks me up and places me back on the mat full of toys, about 8 feet away from the shoe drawer. “Dora, stay here while I cook dinner, please,” as she puts a singing bunny in front of me. She walks back into the kitchen. 

My arms and legs uncontrollably start crawling towards the shoe rack. Oh no! Not again!? 

Izzy is cooking in her little kitchenette in the corner. “Wahh… Agh… Ahh,” I whimper for help. Can someone please stop my limbs? I like toes, not shoes.

Is Your Feet Salty Too?

Mommy is lying on her back in a sea of toys on the floor. Her arms and legs extended like a starfish. This is my opportunity. As a 7-month-old, I can’t waste any more time.
I quickly crawl towards her, so fast that my hands slapping the wooden floor make putter-platter sounds like a fish swimming on land.

I sat down next to the bottom of her feet, her toes pointing upwards.

With a big inhale, I lean over and take a bite of her biggest toe.

Success! The distressed, red toenails had been intriguing me since I’ve been able to see color. I finally got a taste of it. Her toe fit snuggly in my tiny mouth. Quite salty, actually, but tastes better than Izzy’s shoes. I lean forward for another sample of the other toes, but Mommy flings her legs out of reach and shouts, “No biting toes, Dora!”

A big, sheepish smile runs across my face, showcasing my two front teeth.

Mommy scowls as she picks me up and squeezes me lovingly against her chest. Maybe she secretly likes her toes bitten…

The Ride of My Life on a Spaceship

While my sister traveled on airplanes most of her life, I got to travel in a private spaceship at 7-months-old to see my grandparents, big thanks to the Pandemic kid.

Daddy cheerfully said, “Welcome abroad to the spaceship. This is Captain Daddy. It is 4:33AM, the current temperature is 89F with 100 humidity. Please expect a delay as the flight attendant makes her final rounds.”

The dim lights overhead allow me to see everyone’s seating arrangements, Mommy to the right, Daddy in front, and Izzy behind me.

The luggage compartment of the spaceship is so full that the three remaining seats around me are pack to the rim.

I watch Mommy intently as she starts rummaging the six small totes nested on the floor filled with baby bottles, snacks, and toys. After a few minutes, she finally zips everything up.

Daddy’s voice echoes from the front of the car, “The captain has turned on the seatbelt light. Please remain in your seat and keep your seatbelt fastened”. Mommy checks my car seat straps and tightens them some more.

As Mommy checks Izzy’s seat belts in the back, Izzy whispers, “Where are we going?”

Mommy reply, “We are going on a road trip to see grandma and grandpa.”

Daddy made his last announcement, “we are ready for takeoff. Please sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. The lights will dimly shortly.” A few moments later, it got dark with only the street lights peeking through the windows.

The spaceship starts vibrating, moving backward slowly.

It stops and then quickly zooms forward. Mommy places something soft in my hands. I recognize the texture; it is Mrs. Elephant, my sleeping buddy. She then sets a bottle in my hands which floods my mouth with sweet, warm milk. Ahh. Now, that’s the stuff. I am not usually hungry at this hour, but I will welcome free food any day. I cling onto the bottle, chugging until I can’t drink another drop, and drifts off into a deep sleep, dreaming of hyperspace.

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