Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Baby Talk

Children are interesting to me.  On the one hand, I'm not that great with them; I can't do baby talk, and the idea of me actually giving birth to anything not resembling the spawn of satan is pretty laughable.  But on the other hand...
I don't imagine myself with kids.  It's not that I don't like them or whatever - I have plenty of friends that I can easily envision with the whole 'Grown Up' scenario.  You know; husband, twins, house in the suburbs.  And I'm always there too, as the crazy aunt who gets drunk on Christmas.  Alex and Richie are one couple who know this is in the cards for them.  I've already reserved a bedroom in their hypothetical-future-mansion.

The baby talk thing is a real issue with me.  I didn't even do baby talk when I was a baby.  True story.  Ask my Mum.  Apparently I went from sucking my thumb in silence to full-blown conversations.  I don't know.  I imagine it went something like this:

Mum: Baisy, can you say Mama?  Mama?
Me: (Blank stare)
Dad: How about Dada?  Can you say Dada??
Me: (Blank stare)
Catherine: Can she say my name?
Me: Will you three get out of my face?  I'm six days old.  God damn.

Hey!  In other exciting news, we got a new candle for the bathroom.  Finally, I can take showers in the dark again.  Washing my hair has never been so romantic.  Plus it's a scented candle, which only makes everything more enjoyable.  As if Alex and I didn't already have the most desirable apartment in the Lane Cove area.  We haven't actually had our housewarming yet, so feel free to consider this your official invitiation:

I need to start inviting people over more often.
I'm almost convinced this is the reason I'm still single.  If more men saw the inside of my house and how awesome it is, they'd probably be able to look past my love of disco music, obsession with Freddie Mercury, lack of career direction, terrible dance moves and addiction to all-things-caffinated.  Line up, gentlemen!  If you can deal with the crazy thing, I'm really not a hard woman to please.  I don't need a diamond ring.  Just stock the fridge with Red Bull and don't expect me to have kids.

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