View from the high chair

By Ranjitha Ashok

This is nice. Being able to sit up after all that lying around.

Seeing all you guys in Big-Folk’s Land right side up, so to speak.

Thanks for listening, by the way.

Us Little-Folk …..we don’t get too much of that.

We get a lot of Talking-At, though.

Let you in on a little-known Little-Folk secret?

Being baby-talked at can get a tad tedious after a while….sometimes downright dreadful.

See – baby-talk is a skill. If you don’t have it, don’t try it.

The other day, at one of those let’s-get-all-the-babies-together gatherings Big-Folk seem to love (don’t understand why, because the super-high levels of tension and exhaustion on all adult faces are so obvious)….anyway, at one of said gatherings, a misguided few insisted on baby-talk.

One lady, with absolutely no prior warning, hit such a high falsetto with a little one in pink, she nearly shattered my sippy cup; while a venerable old gentleman endowed with large grey whiskers, and a gravelly voice best suited for barking orders at the armed forces, dissolved into a shuddering mess of sputtering and wheezing noises, forcing three Little-Folk to burst into tears. Upon which he, after being physically restrained first, was led away gently by his daughter.

Painful.

You Big-Folk don’t pick up on signals very easily.

If one of you is going: “Da-da-googoo-choochoo-chee-chee…”, and your target is giving you our signature ‘Won’t-Respond Response’, while -sucking on a forefinger in a distinctly distant manner, it probably means you need to stop – like right now.

And then there’s the singing.

Oh, my God, the singing.

Again – some can…..and some, well, they just shouldn’t. Mere good intentions do not a songbird make.

Ok – that’s a bit harsh. No one’s looking for award-winning performances in a rocking chair, but may I just point out that being gargled at doesn’t get us to sleep any quicker?

Like, last night, Old-Means-Well was in charge of making me go to sleep. Now she fits into the can-manage-the-Alphabet-song-decently school of singing – which is fine. (Incidentally, these former convent-educated types who’ve morphed into grandparental roles are the funniest.)
For some strange reason, she chose the brisk ‘Sing a song of sixpence’ ….starting on an impossibly high scale, which merely meant she came to grief when she got to ‘….set before the KING!’
No – didn’t quite reach the King at all.

(You just tried that in your head, didn’t you?!!)

So, after a bit of choking and coughing, she starts, again, for some unfathomable reason, with ‘Old King Cole’….on such a low, deep note, she sounds like a Pit bull with the worst intentions, at which point, having scared both me and herself into shocked silence, she abandons the notion of singing altogether, and chooses to intone simple little nonsense sounds instead.

Which brings up another point.

Words.

Very important you remember them.

You can’t expect the little one in question to lie still with eyes closed while you argue with yourself what the next line should be, stopping halfway, and starting again at some other point in the song.

Speaking of grandparents, we’ve been hearing a lot of chatter about how this role appears to have been re-defined over the years….look-attitude-expectation-wise.

And why not? No need to go into some sort of pre-conceived ‘costume’. But this does throw up some issues that were non-existent a few decades ago.

Like – the slinky look paired with carrying one of us just doesn’t work.

We slither all over; you guys are all over the place….whole lot of slip-sliding going on.

Please note: If you wear glossy, chunky, swingy long ear-rings – we will attack.

So, when on baby-duty – ‘practical’ is a good way to go, even in these organic-diet/bonded-hair/daily-work-out/young-forever times.

Which have changed, yes – but some things haven’t.

Like – never underestimate us Little Folk. Trying to cunningly slip tiny bits of Baby-Food-21st-Century into open mouths by ‘hiding’ them in a spoonful of acceptable mush will be seen as an open declaration of hostilities, and will be treated as such.

Which really means you’ll end up wearing the food in your hair.

If you feel cold, get a shawl. Putting three layers on us instead merely leads to confrontation, and regrettable bumps on communication highways… more red, sleep-deprived eyes, and general irritability.

Dressing us up, changing us, or dressing us down for bed needn’t be a frantic battle, you know. Look, if you pull an outfit over our heads, trap our faces inside, and then start looking for the sleeve – and our arms – there will be repercussions.

Ear-shattering ones.

Socks…… actually, we can keep both on, you know. We just get a kick out of the expression on your faces, when you think you’ve got us dressed and ready, only to find we’ve managed to get ourselves de-socked again.

Priceless!

It’s even funnier if our target is from the grandparent-zone – especially since they are a few decades out of practice, and having forgotten to put on their glasses, have only a vague idea where our limbs are.

One more secret?

We do recognise authority; just as we know whom we can bully.

One timorous tremble when you pick us up – and we know we have you where we want you.
Remember – never show fear.

But you know what?

We Little-Folk, we realise you guys, (well, most of you, anyway), come from a good place.
That’s why we accept your theories. (The Really-Really-Older-Big-Folk still around are pretty scathing about those, by the way.) Your clumsiness, your hesitancies, and general air of genuine cluelessness, with well-deserved compassion.

We just need to put our pudgy feet down firmly sometimes, just to maintain discipline in the home.
Could you pick up Teddy Teething Ring for me, please?

Yes, I know I’ll merely fling it down again – but hey, look at it this way.
All that stooping and straightening keeps you supple.

So don’t worry.

We’ll be gentle.

And we’ll aim for mutual harmony – till we get our words in place.

After that…..!!!!