Leo starts crying. He’s hungry but I don’t know it. I’ve been imagining what this might be like for him…
You tell someone you’re hungry, so they give you a piece of rubber to suck on. You tell them thanks but it’s not working; you’re still hungry. They start bouncing you up and down. Yeah, still hungry, you say. They strip you down and wipe your butt with an cold wet wipe. Hungry, people, I’m hungry, you scream. And that’s not the feeding end! So they take a blanket and pin your arms to your side and bounce you faster and harder. You resort to the lung-emptier scream and they start shushing in your ear, like that’s the answer to all your problems. Like maybe if we started shushing at all those starving kids in Africa we could solve world hunger. They are SOOO not getting it and you’ve nearly sprained your vocal chords by the time they finally offer you a couple ounces of milk.
Seriously, we can be such imbeciles.
My first two boys would cry louder with each of our attempts to calm them down until we finally remembered about feeding them. They’d latch on and suck furiously and sit there swearing at me under their breath.
The thing with Leo is that he’ll ask for food a couple times but if I’m too busy with the other boys, he just gives up and falls asleep.* It’s like he’s too polite to ask again. Or maybe he’s just confident I’ll get around to it sometime so he’ll just patiently wait. Or…is he playing the martyr? Trying to gain our sympathies by quietly starving to death like friggin’ Gandhi? Is he being passive aggressive, slowly building up my guilt so that when he finally pulls rank and asks for a brand new Tesla for his sixteenth birthday I’ll yell, “YES, OF COURSE YES! HAVE A TESLA! HAVE FIVE TESLAS! AND HERE—TAKE THIS DEED TO OUR HOUSE!! AND ALSO BOTH MY KIDNEYS!”
Quiet, calm, sweet personalities are NOT to be trusted in this house.
*Usually. (And a little less usually lately.)