AtoZ Challenge, Baby Hashtag, BlogChatterA2Z, Disha Bhandari

E for Extraterrestrial Weirdo | #BabyHashtagSpeaks

Hello people!

If this is the first time you are reading a post on this blog, let me introduce myself. I am Baby Hashtag. My mother publishes posts on this blog (whenever she is over her procrastination) but I take over the posting duties from time to time to give people an insight into my colourful world.

I’m pretty darned sure I’m not from this world. Try as I might, I do not seem to fit. Something about me, according to mumma, is other-worldly. I think her exact words were “She’s not human, she looks like an angel!” Before you go judging my mother, be informed that you are in queue. I am well ahead of you in the judging train. She’s got some major melodrama in her that osciallates between sobby to sassy and then back to sobby within a second.

Back to feeling alien. Please note that I don’t feel alienated, I just have a strong feeling that I am different. Befuddled? I have a few stories to back me up here.

This one here though is my favourite:

What would any kid do when their mom leaves a bowl of porridge unattended and within reach? Go for it right? The day in question is the day when my mom did keep the bowl within reach on the floor and entered the kitchen to attend to a vessel full of milk on the stove that was ready to boil. It’s physics or some mystery force that makes the milk boil over and spill that exact moment when you blink. So Mumma’s eyes were hard set on the milk watch. And here I am, the entire floor to myself, still not strapped in my booster seat. And the bowl of porridge was mockingly staring at me. I could have gone bananas, could have made a grand mess.

But I didn’t.

I decided to watch mom as she stared at the milk vessel. Creepy right. I surprise myself sometimes.

Mumma exclaimed that day, “Why are you being weirdly cute?”

I of course had no answer to that but I saw her point eventually. So when we came back out of the kitchen after the milk drama was done, I dipped my hand in the gooey porridge and smeared it all over my clothes. Mumma called me a weirdo even then. A naughty weirdo this time.

She whisked me off to the bathroom for a quick rub in and that’s when I decided I was going to answer one of the most important calls of my life. Nature’s.

I froze in my spot for a good 100 seconds. Lots of poopy happened and thankfully for mumma I was diaper clad (cloth diaper if you would like to know) and I simply walked into the bathroom.

It was in the midst of the post-porridge-poop shower that she said I was an alien. Cos she had seen her fair share of babies and kids growing up and no one was quite like me. I’d like to think I’m special that way.

Mumma talks to me every night before tucking me in.

Not cheesy things.

Never cheesy things.

She is mostly kissing me silly, making me laugh and ending the insane laughter fit with the usual, “You are such a cute weirdo, you cannot be human!”

It’s ok if I’m from another world, I’m loving this whole adventure of learning this world’s new ways. I love it here so far. Also, lentil porridge is a bad choice for a body scrub.

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