Polyphonic Spree

There is something primordial about this one, this guzzling. It comes after dark. Once she has sated her need for milk a silent bean is transformed into a cacophonous one. Yelps, growls, belches, screams, groans fill the room, drowning out the pillow talk of her creators. On and on it goes, Nancy was never like this was she, never sounded like cats fighting did she? One half expects to gaze into the cot and see her in the midst of a most brutal transmogrification or battling off the advances of some unknown terror. But alas no. She remains the most beautifully long, soft pudding, capable of generating sounds that are more suited to Swelter's kitchen than a Moses basket in SoTo. Alas, like some many ills the only remedy is the breast although occasionally she falls silent into a deep sleep.

She will be a month old on Wednesday. And much like Nancy, one is already unnerved by the unchecked passing of time, that she has already grown so much in that month that she is basically already a teenager and I'm going to have to start preparing another wedding speech ("and pay for another wedding mate, you'll never see your wallet again, wahey, mines a Stella" etc etc) and desperately cleave to memories of her as a 1 month old, stealthily expanding in all directions as well vomiting silently with an ever increasing range, casting off the fecklessness of complete infancy into this odd, utterly wondrous, banshee of today. 

Beyond her polyphonic abilities she remains expertly slug like but her neck is strengthening and it won't be long until she have mastered control that facet of her being and will start moving onto the next. Like crawling or talking. Or taking degrees. 

The devil. 

Post Wail.

A spectre is stalking Esther

Dalai Lama.com

Coy

Long oine