You would have thought that after nine months of waiting, the pair of them could have made a bit more of an effort.
I certainly had. In fact, I had done nothing but prepare for this day for months now. I’d been busy building up my muscles, growing my legs and arms, and more recently, preening my hair to just the right level of fluffiness. I wanted to look my best; I believe it’s always important to make a great first impression. It is that, after all, which sets the tone for the future.
Sadly this pair clearly did not share my dedication to grooming. Take her for example. Her hair was scruffy and, in parts, stuck together in clumps. Her skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat (ugh). Her eyes were wide, and she looked as if she had just received a massive shock. And the t-shirt she was wearing looked as if it could do with a very thorough clean.
I let out a scream to express my disapproval at her clear lack of personal hygiene (was she afraid of water?), a scream which was met by ‘She’s got quite the set of lungs on her. She’s probably hungry,’ by the kind lady who had pulled (dragged?) me into the world a few moments previous.
As for him, well, the best way to describe him is gormless. Mouth open, eyes wide…..if I’m honest – and I believe in being nothing but as this journal shall attest – he looked like an idiot.
But perhaps worst of all – and now this I found really insulting – was that the pair of them were crying. And not pretty little sniffly tears either but big snot-inducing sobs which made their entire faces distort. I had anticipated two big smiley, faces to herald my arrival. Instead my reception committee consisted of two badly-dressed people, incapable of speech through the tears which were tumbling down their cheeks.
Well, what could I do? I started sobbing too.
I think it was the disappointment that hit me in that moment. You see, I haven’t wasted the last nine months lazing around that woman’s womb (by the way, was it really necessary to eat so many bloody ice pops? They gave me brain freeze every time they came falling down her gullet. I’ll get her back. I sense some very messy bodily functions are going to be exploding over her soon). Anyway, back to my point. No, I haven’t wasted the last nine months just chilling out, kicking back. Far from it. In fact, I spent all that time learning, listening through the wall of my dark cell and finding out what the outside world is really like.
You see, there is a great secret that people do not know and that is this – babies are probably the brightest people on the planet. When we finally emerge from our dark, tight cells, blinking into the light, we are at our most intelligent. Our brains are all fresh and new, and we can take on information easily, and we do during our nine months of incarceration. Of course, nobody knows this because as we grow up, we have distractions such as toys and sweets then booze and parties and the endless pursuit of money and love which cause us to seriously dumb down. Nobody knows this because us babies, in a cruel twist of fate, also have minute memories. Everyone presumes that babies’ intelligence is inferior to that of an adult. But I can guarantee you that a forty year old is considerably less intelligent when compared to a four month old.
And so I spent the last nine months studying and listening and watching and taking every single thing in. And I learnt a lot, everything really (and not just how to buy chocolate, which seemed to be her main priority for the last few weeks). I learnt about the world I would be coming into and how it is run. I learnt about culture and how people like to entertain themselves by watching some bizarre thing called a TV which blurts out the most inane rubbish. And I learnt about people, and how they are always gossiping or complaining or nagging or focusing on the most unimportant things ever, like how the couple next door have a better car, or how they are ignoring another person because of an assumed slight.
I also learnt this:
- People thought it was welcomed if not encouraged to poke around the outside of my house aka the woman’s tummy, making comments such as ‘oooh, not long now.’ I used to think how would you like it if I stood at your front door and kicked it constantly whilst making completely obvious comments such as ‘you’ve got four windows at the front of your house’?
- People would also speculate on my gender based purely on the way she was hanging her massive gut out. I can tell you, every time I heard ‘it’s a boy’, I wanted to shout out ‘I’m a girl.’ Of course, I couldn’t as I have not yet mastered the ability to speak.
- I was the perfect excuse for her to turn into the laziest human on the planet. ‘Would you mind doing that for me because I’m pregnant’ was her favourite refrain. Again, I would have loved to intervene and say that I was the one doing all the work – she was well able to get up and push a hoover around the room.
I suppose then, having learnt all this, I shouldn’t have been expecting great things the day I arrived from Babyland but at my age, I’m still an optimist.
‘Hello darling, am I your mummy? Am I? I’m your mummy. I’m your mummy sweetheart,’ stated the woman, rather ridiculously. Surely she must know, with some degree of certainty, that she’s my mother, considering the physical journey we had both just been on.
Mind you, he wasn’t much better. ‘It’s daddy,’ he declared, pushing his massive face into mine. I could smell he had eaten something stinky recently. It was not pleasant.
So it was hardly the most auspicious of starts for our lives together. And it was only going to get worse. A lot worse…