Adjustment Period

He looked down at the noxious, regurgitated puddle between us. I looked too. He looked to me, shaking his head minutely in slow awe and betrayal.

" ... I... I thought we were friends, mija," the hush to his voice is what got me. As if I had personally put an aspirator to his nose under the guise of playtime.

I felt my head tip to the side as I peered back at him — a frankly, dangerous endeavor with how little neck I'm working with — hopefully conveying the appropriate 'who, me?' response. It's not like I was trying to hurt him (or cover him with baby puke) but as it turns out, lima beans? Yeeaaahh, they can go burn in Nap Time with Mr. Tiggles, the psycho-looking rabbit (who has buttons for eyes, man?! It's sick). How was I supposed to know that my soul, my very essence, despises lima beans? We're just getting to know each other here. It's not like I am blaming him for y'know trying to poison me. Or the other day, when I got a rash from all the wet mess I had been sitting in for twenty minutes, even though I was clearly giving the secret hand signal and code shriek for poops. Did I accuse him of betrayal? No, no I did not, because you know what? Poop happens, as they say. I understand that we’re in a bit of an adjustment period, and if I can at weeks old, well. He needs to get with the program here...

"Agh, don't look at me like that, you little Judas," Who??? "If you didn't like Iima beans you could've just told me... " Ohh Papi's got jokes, huh. If only I could get my eyes to do that rolly thing that Daddy does... That'd show him.

Suddenly something lurched up from inside me. Oh the hot, burning torture — would these beans' villainy never cease?!... Aaand that is how Papi got a face full of residual bean puke. He instantly howled like a cartoon character, jerking away from me and hopping, blind, around the food room. His hands hardly seemed to know what to do as they repeatedly would flail up towards his face to wipe at his eyes but would stop short as he seemingly thought better of it every time. My toothless maw stretched into a big grin, a shrill laugh escaping me. I guess that'd show him, too...

And that's how Daddy found us. Me shrieking in delight from my food throne and Papi bent over the food bathtub swearing about "bebés demonios." A blonde eyebrow arched at me from across the room. "What did you do to him now, Miss Thing?"

I burbled out another giggle. Not because I was guilty, mind you, I just like it when he calls me "Miss Thing"... I even like it more than "mija,” not that I would ever tell Papi that. He's so fragile, that man. Soft since the day we all met in the hospital. It was funny because all the white mask-y people with the poking sticks looked so nervous around him. Like he'd poke them for a change, not that I'd mind that. Maybe it was the dark stickers on his arms and neck that never seemed to peel off. Or maybe because my Papi was the size of two other Papi’s. But Daddy would take one look at him and do the eye-rolly thing and Papi would fall over himself like Mr. Tiggles when I evict him from my crib nightly (honestly, I love hanging out with these guys but they're not always the puffiest rice crisps in the bag, y'know? Why— why would they keep putting that thing back in my bed?). Soft, I say.

"You need to learn now to be more cordial to your dates, sweety. You can't just throw your dinner at them whenever you feel like it.” Daddy sashayed across the pale, sunny tile to me, pulling a napkin out from... somewhere, the magic man that he was. He proceeded to clean my face of wretched lima mess as Papi finally piped up again.

“Oh please. Don't lie to her. I seem to recall a perfectly good eggplant amuse-bouche flung in my face on our first date…” He grabbed a nearby checkered dish towel and dragged it over said face roughly, giving me a stink eye. "Like father, like daughter it would seem." Hey now...

Daddy snatched me up, positioning his vested upper body as if shielding me from the evil glare. Was it too early for me to be declaring favorites? "Hush up, it was your own fault. My policy was and will always be shoot on sight for Yoncé haters. And honestly, I'm still not sure if we'll be able to work through that..."

And for once it was Papi doing the eye-rollies. What an exciting development in his character! "Yeah, six years and one newborn in, I live in constant fear that you‘ll just pack your little Barbie suitcase and walk out on me."

"Oh my god, how many times do I have to say the bag is a very deep coral. Coral, as in not pink and you— y’know what? That fear is a healthy response to a very real danger for you, padre.” Daddy sniffed, "Can you even imagine what a mess you'd be without me?" He fingered one of my downy curls to the side idly. It felt ridiculously nice. He should get paid for that. 

Papi approached suddenly enveloping us both in a massive bear hug. His eyes did that melty thing they always do when he thinks Daddy isn't looking. Then he slobbered on Daddy above me like they sometimes do when they think I’m sleeping. "Utter shambles, babe. Utter shambles." Soft.

Daddy merely sniffed at him again. "You smell like lima beans." Heh. He sure did.

Papi proceeded to growl and swept me up into his arms careening me around like an airplane. “You think that’s funny, mija?” My shrieking laughter bounced off the walls as I saw heights that probably no baby has ever seen before.

Yeah. These guys are alright with me I guess.