Why is it so satisfying, when feeding a baby, to scrape the extra stuff off his chin with a spoon? This morning I said to Kevin, who was spooning the mash into him: "You could feed him another meal with what's on his chin." People who are not parents might be grossed out by this thought, however.
You know your housekeeping standards have really fallen when (this could be one in an ongoing series): Your baby has taken to snacking off the kitchen floor.
Read a story in the Globe today about a Fisher-Price talking baby doll that apparently says: "Islam is the light." Wouldn't you know, we have this very doll, given to Fooey for her third birthday by her auntie Fi. So, naturally, I turned it on (it's usually off; it has the unnerving habit, when on, to randomly and mechanically wriggle about like an actual cooing, fussing, gurgling baby, of which we are already in possession). And lo and behold, one of the random babbles does sound eerily like "Islam is the light." Unless it actually sounds like "God is the light." Or even "Please turn on/off the light." Apparently there is an outcry (from whom?) to recall these dolls lest they subliminally convert the innocent. From my unscientific exploration of the subject, I'm not sure to what one might fear conversion. If the doll could subliminally get my kids to turn out their lights at night, I'd keep the button "on."
Labels: babies, kids, toys