The Wondrous White Whirlpool Machine (by Liliana)

There is a whirlpool machine in our bathroom. Mommy uses it to clean my dirty diapers.

I love the whirlpool machine.

I wanted to learn how to work it, so I made sure to make an especially dirty diaper that took three whole wipes to clean. That way I would have lots of time to study the whirlpool machine while she cleaned the diaper.

Since the Fun Mommy (who thinks his name is Daddy) was gone at the time, Fresh-Milk Mommy had to take me in the bathroom with her to clean it. Since I can crawl now, she had to shut the door so that I wouldn’t go explore the stairs (which I plan to conquer and give you other babies an update on soon.) She brought some toys with us because she wanted to try and keep me busy, but I saw right through her plan. As soon as she had the dirty wipe in one hand and the diaper sprayer in the other, I knew it was time to act.

I zoomed over to the whirlpool machine and pulled myself up. The best part was that since her hands were all dirty, she couldn’t stop me.

The whirlpool machine was so cool! Not only was the diaper sprayer fun, the bowl part was filled with agua! I love agua! So, of course, I tried to use my new-found splashing skills in the bowl, but Mommy ruined my fun by blocking me with her arms again and again. I tried to move around the arms, but she was too fast. She said something about me being mischievous and used her forearms to steer me away from the whirlpool machine to my toys.

She couldn’t stop me so easily though. I knew I must not have waited until she was busy enough the first time, so this time I waited a few more seconds before darting around her to pull myself up. To my dismay, she had become much better at blocking my arms from playing in the agua.

I realized that I needed to try another tactic, so I looked around to find something to aid me. Luckily, there was a white, fluffy roll of stuff to my left, so I started scratching at it, hoping Mommy would be distracted enough to let down her guard.

It didn’t work. I had to hurry if I wanted a chance to play with the whirlpools; Mommy was already washing the third wipe. Some of the fluff came off in my hand, however, and so I put it in my mouth. Mommy started trying to tell me not to eat it, but she couldn’t do anything. I grinned, seeing that my victory was at hand, and started to pull apart more of the fluff.

Unfortunately, she didn’t stop washing things. If anything, it seemed that my efforts had only made her move faster. I frantically stuffed fluff into my mouth, taunting her with my grin as she tried to talk me out of what I was doing.

My hopes began to drift away as she finished rinsing the diaper and put it in the bag, but this wasn’t over yet. She still had to wash her hands, and while she couldn’t reach me I would make sure I could reach the whirlpools.

No! No! No! This couldn’t be happening. Mommy was standing on one leg so she could block me with the other one. This was too much for me to handle so I sat down and cried.

Then it occurred to me that the bag with the diaper was just on the other side of the whirlpool machine. If I couldn’t whirlpools, at least I could have that.

I started to crawl towards the bag, but Mommy scooped me off the ground at that exact instance, thwarting the last of my plans! She swiped all of the fluff out of mouth! Worst of all, she washed my hands! I wailed about the unfairness of it all as I watched her close the lid on all of my dreams.

You win this battle, Mommy, but just you wait. I will win the war.


My Mommies and Me (by Liliana)

I love my mommies very much, even though they make me wear pants. They read to me, play with me, and they even feed me milk. I love all food, but I especially love milk.

Only one of them gives me fresh milk though. The other one only ever warms up stale milk in a bottle. They do both give me real food, which is also very delicious.

Speaking of delicious, Fresh-Milk Mommy told me a joke the other day. “What do you call a Mexican gummy bear?” “Delici-oso!”

Anyway, lately my mommies don’t seem to agree with my name for one of them. They are obviously both mommies, because they do the same things. The one with the hair around his mouth seems to think I am wrong to call him, “Momma.” When I say “Momma!” to get his attention, he says, “I’m Dada.” I think he just made up that name though because he’s jealous of Fresh-Milk Mommy and wants his own name. Of course, he’s just being silly, so I am quick to correct his behavior. Whenever he tells me, “I’m not Momma. I’m Dada.” I just look at him intently and tell him “Momma!” again. I make sure I’m extra patient with him because this is clearly a cry for attention. I’m sure that he will understand eventually that he does not need to make up a new name in order for me to love him. I know he is a Mommy and the sooner he can accept his role, the sooner he will feel better about himself.

This is why I purposefully have avoided using the “D” consonant entirely. I don’t want to give him any reason to think I am entertaining this foolishness.

On the other hand, he does seem quite disappointed that I won’t use his made-up word. Perhaps I should make him feel better by using it? I don’t know though, that seems a little patronizing to me.

What do you guys think? Should I pretend he is something that he is not just so he feels better? Or should I keep gently reminding him that he is, in fact, a Mommy just like the other one?