2003-06-09 - 12:05 p.m. Awakening 8 Disagreement 11/11/81 I am an only child. I have realized this since I evolved far beyond my stuffed rabbit brother. You see I can now move around and speak a little. I am becoming something. I learn lessons and I can manipulate my environment. My biggest priority is food. I love food. I hate crapping my pants, but I like food. Someday I think I will learn the exact relationship between the two. I have learned that when I cry, I get attention and when I want food I point. I like crackers. I will point at the cupboard and say �Cwaquer� and then I will receive a �cwaquer.� Unfortunately I have not learned of temperance. In fact three times now I have eaten enough to induced �cwaquer� vomit. This is not good. That�s like face poop. Mother had told me, �Gumpy you have to only eat what you can handle. Otherwise no more crackers.� This sounded like, �Gwumpy, blah bloo blue blah bliz blah blan blooke. Blothther no cwaqers� Of course mother loved me and was certain to give me my endless supply of leavened wheat. All I need to do was raise my small baby paw and point at the cabinet, and say �cwaquer.� It really is elementary. But today things in my world changed. I followed my own perfected instructions. Raise my hand, said my word. And wait. Now sometimes mother is unable to hear me. The water is running or the phone is ringing. I can understand. No one is perfect. I calmly repeated. Nothing. I said that mother had one more chance. One last chance to get me my treat. I would wait for eye contact. Then I got it; I pointed and said, �Cwaquer,� in quite a puff I might add. She had to have understood me, and she certainly saw me, what was wrong with her. And then she said it. The worst word I had ever heard. �No.� No? No? I heard this word before. She used it on the dog and cat. She used it on father, but not me. The word wasn�t for me. I CAN�T BELIEVE THAT SHE WOULD SAY THAT WORD TO ME!!!! ***The Crying fit begins*** Now I get my fighting spirit from my mother. So it isn�t surprising that this fit, though of epic proportions, would not get me my cracker. She just kept looking at me and saying, �No.� I would cry louder. And louder. AND LOUDER. But a baby�s lungs have their limit. There was no more squeal left in my tires, but mother didn�t budge. I knew that I had to take matters into my own hands. I began to crawl to the hallway near our kitchen. I reached the narrow hallway and lined up with the door. I thought about my need for the cracker and knew that this had to be done. And then I went to town. My mother later describes the sound as a book trying to be nailed into drywall. It was a thumping and denting noise. I began ramming my head into the door as hard as I could. My mother got to me as quick as she could, but it was already too late. I had done damage myself. Being a baby my bones were not completely formed, and because of that I did in fact dent my skull. It�s small unnoticeable dent that would remain with me for the rest of my life. I can�t see it with my eyes, but only feel it. It pushed part of the skull underneath another resulting in a tiny bump hidden by my hair. My mom was very upset, but did give me a cracker for the debacle. I, unfortunately, puked from the cracker. The dent remains to remind me of two things: The day I first became aware of the word �no.� That I will always find a way to get what I want Neither of which I truly understand the value of. | |||||||||||
