Day 225: My Baby is Special

My Baby is Special
Matt Zurbo

My baby is special, Doctor. I mean the best!
I try not to brag, but she’s smarter than the rest!
(Baby sitting, looking blankly at a fly.)

She knows North, South, East and West.
Can speak Spanish, and pass any test!
(Dad, chest out, almost marching into doctor’s room with baby waddling behind.)

Okay, now Baby, show the Doctor your smarts,
Don’t leave out, even the smallest parts.
“Goo, goo!”
(Doctor and Dad looking down on baby, sitting there, dribbling, picking its nose.)

Come on, baby, please, at least count to ten!
Trust me, she’s smarter than most women and men!
(Dad dancing awkwardly to amuse baby, who is wide-eyed, eating the corner of its dress.)

At least count to five! Jeez, you’re embarrassing me.
The doctor won’t believe what he can’t see!
(Dad, hands clawed, on one knee, pleading with bay, who now has finger from both hands up nose.)

I swear, wait, my baby can juggle and dance!
And if you but let her, she will also prance.
“Goo, gargle, goo…”
(Dad trying to hold onto doctor’s coattails, as doctor marches out. Behind them, baby is trying to play with a moth.)

Oh, come on, baby! I’ll be good, I’ll be kind!
I’ll read you a lifetime of nursery rhymes.
(Dad walking with baby in arm, pleading with free hand. Baby is chewing on his finger.)

Just show all my friends, a few of the tricks that you do!
I’ll even be happy with your nappy, when it’s full of poo!
“Goo, hick, goo!”
(Dad slapping his own head, in circle of friends, all watching baby sleep against toy.)

Now, ladies and gentlemen of the press,
come look at my baby, and be impressed.
(Dad, arm out, steering press into room with baby on a pedestal.)

I don’t want to say too much, but she’s really smart!
Enough so to build, her own billycart!
(Baby, one foot in air, waddling towards hotted-up billycart. Everybody’s eyes glued on her. One sign pointing to cart: BUILT BY YOU! Other sign: IT’S TRUE!)

Please baby, please! Show them what you can do!
Don’t make me look foolish, for my faith in you!
(Dad, clawing at one face as baby stands in billycart seat, not sits, facing the wrong way. Eating headrest.)

Those letter blocks you piled A to Zed?
Will you do it again if I humbly beg?
Well, baby, that’s what I’ll do!
Even whine and whimper, too!
“Goo, goo, giggle, goo.”
(Baby sitting on blocks, gargling, while reporters watch and tv cameras film. Dad on ground, arse in air, having a nervous breakdown/pleading to baby.)

Gah! Now, you’re making me mad!
No-one believes the trouble I’ve had!
The devices you’ve made, traps you’ve sprung.
Why not just show them? This is not fun!
(Dad standing, furious, over baby. Baby is trying to put spelling block in her ear.)

Okay, okay, I’ll admit defeat!
My baby’s as plain as the bleat of a sheep.
(Dad throwing hands in air, baby on pedestal, bum up, awkwardly trying to climb down.)

Thank you for coming, I apologise, I apologise!
I so wanted to show you my baby is wise!
(Dad herding press and people out door, while baby watches.)

Please don’t think me a fool, or even half mad.
I feel like someone who’s just been had.
(Dad, dejected, sitting in his pile of ‘Super Baby’ fliers.)

“That was most interesting…” baby then said,
while juggling blocks, above its baby head!
(Baby standing on one leg, balancing a ball with the other, casually juggling blocks – all in alphabetical order. Other blocks around baby stacked to count to ten, or spell its name.)

The End.

(Fade-out image baby smiling, flying away in a mini spaceship it has built from household bits, and dad chasing furious.)



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