Carmen Gets Her Groove Back

Everytime I think of subscribing to the notion of the established gay man happy in suburbia with his domestic partner and adopted indigent Himalayan children, I quickly have a rethink - especially lately when I've volunteered for the task of occasionally babysitting for my brother.

Don't get me wrong. Really, my niece is a darling. In the early mornings when she first wakes up all fresh from a good night's sleep ( if she ever gets one without the occasional nightmarish awakening ), you'll believe that butter won't melt in Chatty Carmen's pretty cupid bow's mouth. We have our morning breakfast with pancakes and orange juice while grooving to Beyonce - believe me, Carmen makes a mean impression while babbling the entire lyrics to Irreplaceable!


Groovy baby!
Seriously. You'll actually be fooled into thinking that little girls are actually made up of sugar and spice, and everything nice.

Those who've handled children in the terrible two stage would know that this sweet phase is only temporary before the inevitable transformation. Honestly after hours of close observation, I am starting to believe that's only one of her budding personalities. Depending on the hour, the seasonal weather and possibly her swinging hormonal imbalances ( acute infantile PMS? ), the tempestuous tyke takes on several distinct personas throughout the day from Cute Cooing Carmen who sings songs to chattering bluebirds in the garden - to the horrific near-demonic Crying Crabby Carmen who tosses Lego bricks aside in her mini King Kong impersonation.

Really. When crabby Carmen's throwing one of her tearful tantrums - and coming close to dramatically twisting her head 360 degrees, I swear I'm this close to calling the nearest amateur exorcist at hand to remove the vengeful spirit that seems to have possessed her. Other than a quick, cleansing splash of holy water, I'm not sure what else to do apart from standing at a decent distance while staring in fearful astonishment.

Obviously not ready to be a full-time father at the present moment. But then I guess real-time experience does help. After a thousand nights of dealing with a maddening monster, I guess even a relative bumbling amateur figures out some novel ways of dealing with the problem. At the moment ( nearly tearing my hair out with frustration ) unfortunately I can only think of several drops of Chloral Hydrate.

Not exactly a paediatrician-sanctioned way of dealing with a cranky child.

Wonder how Charming Calvin would deal with Crabby Carmen - or any other infants to come. Doubt even his vaunted sleepiness would hold under her ear-splitting sonic screams. :) With his penchant for ironing, bet he'd enjoy doing the extra laundry though.