Frankenbaby…

Yesterday “By-line Woman” and I had our side by side haircut appointments after which we went off to have a visit and lunch with “Glasgow Girl” and “Mousey”. “By-Line Woman” and I have been friends since third year art school; we both had our kid(s) at a young age, under relatively poor economic circumstances. Thus during our visit we regaled “Glasgow Girl” with comparisons of how equipment in nurseries had changed, but the nature of infants had not, in the intervening 37 years.

“Mousey”, now ten months old, alternately crawls, walks around keeping one hand on surfaces for balance, and covers short stretches of ground, unaided, but staggering like a little drunken sailor. She was fascinated with “By-line Woman”, who in turn appeared charmed by her outgoing sweet nature, her efforts to engage adults in interactions and her goofy sense of humour.

Initially, “Mousey” gave each of us equal time. She would visit each of us, but soon ignored her Mother and me and turned her attentions to “BW”.  “Oh… look at her walk, and at ten months” crowed “BW”. “Mousey” took 14 steps that looked like a drunk forced to demonstrate sobriety by traffic police at a road-block. We giggled madly as she arrived at her destination (BW) and propped herself in what seemed like relief on “BW’s” knees.”Renaissance Man” has taken to calling her ” “Frankenbaby” “, chortled “Glasgow Girl”. The three of us practically peed ourselves laughing at this. It was amusing to conjure up an image of a baby  Boris Karloff, a self-satisfied smile on his tiny raddled face, barefoot and wearing baby Frankenstein clothes, madly windmilling his chubby little arms and lumbering toward a bedazzled, glowing and freshly coiffed, and insanely beaming “By-Line Woman”.

Good one, “Renaissance Man”!  This is one for the family history!

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