I feel bad for Margo (our second kid).
When Audrey was born, both Erin and I fawned over every gurgle and spastic move she made. We had already applied whatever personality we thought we saw in her, and videotaped the lamest things out of sheer joy and wonder. But, now that we deal with mini power struggles from Audrey on a regular basis, we've pretty much skipped over all that initial fun with Margo.
It's not that we just took her for granted right away. We dealt with four months of her screaming every night from 7 p.m. to 11 p.m.. It was ridiculous. Both Erin and I wondered how long it was going to go on, and if we could make it. So, by the time she settled down and stopped the screaming habit, we didn't have the same energy that we did for Audrey. So, we commented on how great Margo was now that she's all smiles and content to sit quietly for hours on end, and pretty much neglected the part where we take pictures of her, video tape her or dress her up in weird costumes we buy on a whim from baby gap.
That's changed though. Unlike Audrey, she's picked up on flipping over, crawling, standing up with the help of a couch or table and other gymnastics right on schedule. Where as Audrey was like our infant for over a year, Margo is practically a teenager at 10 months. So now we can't drop her in her high chair and basically forget about her while we try every trick in the book to get Audrey to eat her Gnocchi- now she throws her cheerios at us while announcing, "Uh-oh".
You also can't hold her. She wants you to. She'll crawl right up and stand her self up by holding on to your pants. Then, she'll look up at you with her huge cheeks and sweet two-toothed smile until you pick her up and smooch her face. After hooking you in, she'll then start twisting and contorting her torso around while whining until you put her down. Once you do, she'll begin the process all over again.
Another trick is how she's aligned herself with the cats in our house. Audrey used to try to grab their tails and talk to them. She could talk to them because she learned to talk so early. But since Margo has spent all her time learning all the physical skills, her speech is limited- which doesn't stop her from trying to talk in the kitten's primal language. And it appears to work. Every morning when I go into Margo's room to pull her from her crib and get her dressed, Octavia darts in and leaps into the crib as if ready to carry out whatever orders Chipps (that's my nick-name for Margo) barks out. She will wail her gentle, "Ooooooh... Ooooooh" like a kitten without lips and Octavia will twist around on her back, exposing her belly in ecstasy. I can only imagine that Chipps is sweetly cooing to Octavia on their take over of the kitchen, so they can get at the coveted bottom cubbord where we keep the snacks.
Anyway, my point is that from the last few months of neglect was born a personality of power in the form of Chippy. She seems determined to get our attention by force, and only gets worse every day. She's cute as hell, but I have creeping memories of Bradbury's "The Small Assassin" that I had once read in junior high.
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