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Wednesday, February 26, 2003  

Deniece at Thirteen Months

Last weekend, we drove down to Iowa for my niece Deniece’s birthday party. Yes, she had her actual birthday last month, complete with party and frosting shampoo/facial. That was for the Minnesota relatives. This was for the Iowa relatives. Ergo, two birthday parties in two months. I just hope Deniece doesn’t get too grouchy the third weekend in March when a third birthday party isn’t forthcoming. And again in April, and so on. The second year of a child’s life is a little early for her parents to have to start dealing with “that time of the month.”

When we arrived at Deniece’s house early Saturday afternoon, her mom was just about to put her down for her nap. That was kiboshed when Deniece heard us come in. She appeared regally at the top of the stairs in her mom’s arms, giving us a huge “hey, it’s Aaaah and Eehh! I love Aaaah and Eehh!” smile. We weren’t in the house two minutes before her parents had her demonstrating her newest skill.

“Deniece, show us your tummy!”

Whereupon Deniece would instantly grab the hem of her shirt and gleefully lift it up to her chin. Thirteen months old and she’s ready for Girls Gone Wild. Except, not ready ready. If you know what I mean. Ew. I think I just squicked myself out. Also, I shudder to think of the Google hits I’m going to get from this paragraph.

One of Deniece’s abiding interests—aside from the standard thirteen-month-old pursuits of eating, pooping, falling down, and learning to pretend to be unable to understand a word of English because hey I’m just a baby over here and since nobody’s physically preventing me from walking across the floor that must mean that I’m finally allowed to gnaw the electrical outlet plates off the wall—is cell phones. Once, Trash’s uncle got a call that appeared to be coming from Deniece’s dad, my brother-in-law.

Uncle: Hello?

Deniece: Aaah. Beeeeaaaaf; gxx. Nuuuu.

Uncle: Hi, Deniece, how’re you?

Deniece: Nnnnnnnnn dehh (uuurooooong). Ba?

Uncle: That’s nice.


Uncle:So, what’cha doin’?.

Deniece: Gluhhh.

Uncle figured that Deniece’s dad had called him and was just holding the phone to Deniece’s ear so she could say hi, and that the adults would be talking in a minute. Then it turned into two minutes. Then five. What actually happened was that Deniece had gotten a hold of BIL’s cell phone and pressed the right combination of buttons to get the Uncle on the line without BIL ever knowing. That is, until the Uncle asked BIL about it later, and they figured out that Deniece had made the call all on her own.

Of course, this is only the call they know about. Deniece could be having an intense telephone correspondence with somebody in Manila and nobody will know until the bill shows up.

BIL was telling us about this incident during our visit in December. The next day, we saw the Uncle and asked him about his conversation with Deniece.

“You mean last night?” he asked us. She’d done it again. While Deniece made non-specific vocal sounds into her dad’s phone, Uncle could hear us in the background talking about the last time she’d done it. BIL started locking his phone shortly thereafter, against the day when she actually succeeded in calling the White House.

Naturally, we gave Deniece a toy phone of her own for her birthday. She’s fascinated with it and the noises it makes. This is what she’s into: flashing and phones. She’s growing up so quickly.

When the Uncle showed up, he made his entrance by peeking around a corner from the hallway at her. Deniece spotted him and headed straight for him at top speed, forgetting in her excitement about the whole “around the corner” concept of spatial relations and plowing into the wall. Her new phone hit the linoleum at about the same time as her ass, and both displayed admirable durability.

I guess she’s not growing up too quickly.

posted by M. Giant 3:47 PM 0 comments


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