Busy B

I’ve been a very busy baby lately that’s why I haven’t posted anything new on my blog for a while. But yesterday when my fans staged a protest march and a hunger strike outside my home, I felt compelled to issue an apology for my silence. I did not want rumbling tummies on my conscience, nor Mommy upset about people peeping through our windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite baby blogger.

I am truly sorry I haven’t written, but my fans will have to learn to occasionally get through the week without my pearls of wisdom to guide them, because my diary is simply heaving with engagements all the way up to the New Year.

This week I’ve been Christmas shopping. I shopped till I dropped (off to sleep) but I still have some gift hunting left to do. Such is the plight of a baby with a large social network. It does seem unfair that Mommy and Daddy can sit back (unlike me) and let Santa get all my gifts from the list I've sent him!

I also attended my first birthday party. Not my own, as I am just over 6 months old, but a really fun party thrown by my much older (a whole 6 months!) friend Sol in Sheffield. While all the girls swooned over me and Sol, Mommy tried all the desserts. Daddy wouldn’t let me sip his champagne but we shared a banana which kept me happy till tea time.

Then, on Monday, we took Mommy to hospital for her operation. She put on a green tent-like thing and disappeared behind some doors. I couldn’t wave to her although I wanted to, because I couldn’t move my arms much in my big warm overalls, which I was wearing for the first time as it was a particularly frosty morning. I didn’t get much time to feel sad about it though because Mommy popped out of the operation theatre just a quarter of an hour later to say that she didn't need one after all! The doctor, who’d seen her a month and a half ago, had had another look and was pleasantly surprised to see that the problem area had (finally) healed and no intervention was necessary, which was fantastic news.

And that was the week that was, folks. I promise to try and write again real soon although I have another busy week ahead, full of parties and more shopping and my first trip to the hair dresser (sadly, not for me, though I quite fancy a new look to go with my new teeth)!

A Fangtastic Development

After months of angst (and dribble), I have got to the root of my troubles- there is a growth and it’s in my mouth. In fact, there are two (and a half) of them and they are called teeth!

They look and feel a tad strange, like bits of chewy baby rice I’ve forgotten to swallow. I was in great discomfort when they were coming through but now I wouldn’t be without them (although I will have to part with them in a few years, I’m told, but only to make way for others). What are the advantages of teeth you cry, my baby brethren, when they cause us such pain and grief?

Well, for one, I have a dazzling new smile. Show me one Hollywood hunk without pearly whites and I will show you…a baby; a baby who will only ever do the one role and then disappear from our screens forever! And it’s not just about superficialities like appearance, everything I do seems to have more bite (hardy har har).

Chomping on my parents’ fingers is so much more satisfying than it used to be; the occasional anguished scream when I sink my new teeth in is also quite exciting! Plus, I can now show my two toy pooches, Popsi and Pru, who’s boss with a well placed nip or two. Two can play at the same game, you see!

But most importantly, my gastronomic horizons have broadened beyond belief. Just yesterday I was having milk, milk and more milk. Today I can have nibbles, finger foods and little snackeroos I can play with before I eat! It makes my head spin just thinking of all the wonderful new munchies I can get my two (and a half) teeth into!

What more can I say to persuade you to grow teeth, my infant friends, except that it is your passport to foodie heaven? Talking of Foodies, this one must now toddle off to have his tea...

I Can Be Obama

Yes, I can.

Mommy cried when Barack Obama gave his US presidential election victory speech at 4 am on Wednesday (or maybe she cried because I’d kept her up all night). She told me that Obama is a beacon of hope for many people around the world. Then she said I was the light of Mommy and Daddy’s life (Daddy verified this so it must be true) therefore, I am their Obama, only smaller and cuter (though he isn't half-bad, according to her). When I grow up, I could be as inspirational as he is (or more, she said; my mommy doesn’t expect much)!

Mommy and Daddy said (all this at the crack of dawn) that I have a lot in common with President-elect Obama. I am a ‘half-outsider’ like him with an ‘unusual’ (but beautiful- Daddy emphasised) name. They hope, like him, these things can be my strength rather than my Achilles Heel (some kind of wonky body part). Like him, they hope, I can succeed on my own terms, shrugging off labels and stereotypes, proudly owning both sides of my heritage, and never watering down who I am to suit other people.

Barack Obama didn’t run to the Deed Poll people when his countrymen couldn’t tell him apart from Osama Bin Laden. When they made fun of a picture of him in a turban, he didn’t disown his Kenyan background, nor did he distance himself from his white family when some people questioned whether he was truly ‘black’. That’s the man Mommy and Daddy believe I can be (not half-Kenyan and half-American, you understand, though I could legitimately sport a turban).

If I am that kind of guy, Mommy says, the world would be my oyster. Maybe a half-closed oyster that has to be prised open, like it is with a lot of people outside the ‘mainstream’. I might have to chip away at it long and hard before opportunities open up to me, but if I have talent and guts and determination (which I shall have in spades, my parents said), then I could make it mine.

I can be Obama. Yes, I can.

But I’d rather be Lewis Hamilton (it looks like more fun)!

Note: Pictured here with my running mate Gerry the Giraffe, who is of African origin; a truly diverse partnership!