Tag: 8 months old

Butterfly Concerto

On November 3, 2022

“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

By Hurricane Dora

On November 3, 2022

In 08 Months Old, Dora's Stories

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?

My Exclusive Catwalk on the Plane

By Izzy Tornado

On April 27, 2021

In 08 Months Old, Izzy's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

Daycare is my second home, and the airport is my third since we traveled almost every month. Although my first flight was very stressful, traveling is now dull. I mean, after my 30-hour flight to China at 2-months-old, all the other flights this year are just trivial (ex: Denver, Nebraska, New York, various cities in Texas).

Now at 8-months-old and finally able to waddle, I just put on my butterfly leash and let Mommy chase me as I roam around the airport, looking for my buddies.

First, we say “hi” to the nice lady at the counter that gives us the tickets when we check our bags. Then I look for my favorite escalator and ride it a few times. We would wave goodbye to the enormous white spacesuit before getting in the short security line. The security guys at the beeping monitors always smile at us when we flash our IDs. Just a pro-tip – don’t get on the long security line. It is endless. Every time we go on a trip, there are always people on that line. Finally, we would wait in the big auditorium before boarding the plane.

The plane, my friend, is where I shine.

With the rows of seats on both sides decorated with luggage compartments looming overhead, a natural stage emerges. After we take off, my exit strategy from Daddy’s lap is to squirm and wriggle so much that he gives in. Mommy then puts on my favorite shoe, and I practice my smiles before our catwalk down the aisle.

I would patiently stand in the aisle until the passengers sitting in the nearest row stop what they are doing to look at me. After studying each person individually, I would graciously present a slight wave and a bright smile. Then move on to greet the next row of passengers, leaving behind a synonymous “aww.” By the time I reach the end (or beginning) of the plane, I would make my way up again to give them another dose of adrenaline.

People always say, “it’s not the destination that matters; it’s the experience and people you are with.”

I try to make these passengers’ trips as meaningful as possible by entertaining them multiple times on every flight. Be assured that if you are traveling on my plane, the catwalk comes as part of the package with no additional fee, just like the flight attendants. Although the travelers always vary (or perhaps I saw that purple hair dude with a red dress before), you would not believe how many people choose to ride my plane just to see me. I hope these catwalks pay for the airplane tickets.

The Rolling R Gene

By Izzy Tornado

On April 25, 2021

In 08 Months Old, Izzy's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

“Rrrrrr,” I growled in disapproval.
“She’s only 8-months-old. Did she just rolled an R?” Mommy asked, turning to Daddy in disbelief.
“I think she’s cursing at us in baby language,” Daddy replied. He had a big smile on his face as he rolled his R back at me, “Rrrrrrr.”
I looked at him, surprised. How dare you say I’m not pretty!? “Rrrrr, Werc#@423 Rrrrr xweDSFRWerrrrrrrr,” I exclaimed back.
Mommy attempted to roll an R but only end up just spitting at me. “Not fair! I can’t do it!” she sputtered sadly.
Daddy and I rolled R’s back and forth a few times until I finally giggled. What was I mad about again?

The Mouthwash Ritual

By Izzy Tornado

On March 15, 2021

In 08 Months Old, Izzy's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

The mouthwash ritual is a sacred ceremony that Mommy and I perform every night since I turned 8-months-old when I procured my fourth tooth.

After flossing (my second favorite activity), I would sit on the bathroom counter with my feet in the sink, holding my big dinosaur cup over the faucet while Mommy turns on the water. It’s always a bonus whenever I can quickly move the cup away just so the water splashes on my feet. Delightful. Of course, Mommy immediately turns off the water and teases about my wet pants.

It’s a little game we play.

Mommy then opens a green bottle, letting the refreshing smell of mint swirl into my nostril. Ah, The Precious Mouthwash. Together, we would pour a very teeny, tiny amount of Mouthwash into her small cup.

Then we look into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, as if speaking in a silent language and say in harmony, “Cheers!” raising our cups for good luck.

“Spit it out, don’t drink it,” Mommy warns me every time.

As usual, I nod. But proceed to drink the water as fast as I could before she tears the cup away from me.

“Plat,” I would fake a spit and give her a big grin.

Mommy, on the other hand, takes a swig from her cup. For a few moments, the Mouthwash stays in her mouth, not going down nor coming out.

My hands vibrate as I place them on her cheeks, feeling every swish.

As if stuck in a wormhole, it bounces around, forming larger and larger bubbles until it overflows. “Haha!” I laughed as I popped the bubbles in her mouth. My favorite part!

Finally, Mommy decides to spit out the green, foamy liquid. I watch it sizzle down the drain—what a waste.

Mouthwash, like toothpaste, is meant to be swallowed.