Part of being a parent is talking to your baby allllll the time. Because when you talk to your baby, you get to pretend you're not talking to yourself. And that helps you to feel sane.
But of course, for you to REALLY feel sane, you can't just talk at the baby -- the baby needs to answer. Which is a problem, because babies can't talk.
"Nobody can understand a f***ing word you're saying, Andrew."
But it's an easily remedied problem: you just talk for the baby, in a slightly different voice from your own, and then carry on full conversations like a totally normal non-crazy human being. It's great.
And in my imagination, Audrey talks in a very stiff, formal way. Like we're business associates or something. One of my greatest hopes as a parent is that when she eventually learns to talk, she picks up these speech patterns. Imagine a baby actually saying things like:
(when she is playing aggressively with something or making a lot of noise by herself)
Me: "What are you doing?"
Audrey: "I'm doing baby stuff, Mommy, and quite frankly it's none of your business."
(when changing a modestly poopy diaper)
Me: "Did you do a poo?"
Audrey: "It's just a little turd, Mommy. Very reasonably-sized, if I do say so myself."
(when she tries to grab the tube of Butt Paste to play with during a diaper change)
Me: "Do you want to play with your butt paste?"
Audrey: "Yes. I would like to have it. You know how much I enjoy playing with it."
(when she rips her stiff felt shapes out of her play book and shoves them in her mouth)
Me: "Are you eating your shapes? Are they good?"
Audrey: "Yes Mommy. They have a nice flavor and an excellent texture. I prefer the red triangle, but the blue oval is not without merit either."
(when she tries to play with something dangerous/large/fragile)
Me: "No, Audrey, you can't play with that. It's not for babies."
Audrey: "Agree to disagree."
(when she crawls up behind me and grabs my leg)
Me: "Oh hi! What are you doing over here?"
Audrey: "Just checking up on you, Mommy. Making sure you're not doing anything you're not supposed to be doing."
(when she grabs a handful of my skin and squeezes it as hard as she can, which is quite painful)
"Ouch! Don't squeeze Mommy's skin like that!"
"Sorry, but I don't answer to you, Mommy. I'm an independent spirit and I do what I like. You can just deal with it."
Please, Audrey, please talk like this.
