The voodoo stick
When Bun Bun was born, my mama brought a rusty curtain rod that she planned to tie with some shitty yarn to the crib, and attach a variety of dangerous objects to it so the baby could enjoy them. I balked. I am not super obsessed with safety. I mean, I break rules set by the American Academy of Pediatrics now and again. I believe in educated decision making. But no rusty curtain rod. No shitty yard. NO ENTICING CHOKABLES. So I agreed to the general plan, but insisted on making it myself. I used a nice strong dowel, covered with fabric in case of breakage. I used nice strong ribbon to attach it. And I used only the items that were safe, and attached them securely. One of the items she brought involved a lot of chicken feathers, so we called it the voodoo stick.
Each subsequent baby has gotten a few different items. The tentacle has stayed from the beginning, the lovely silver rattle. The little fabric bag contains a bunch of pine needles, very fragrant and nice. Bunter got a nice tape roll with some socially progressive stickers. Chew on amnesty international! Chew on the world wildlife fund! And some mysterious object, maybe part of a hair holding device.
The babies love the fuck out of their voodoo stick. Bunter extra loves sticking her toes in the metal thing. And I know they’d likely enjoy some plastic piece of shit, too. It’s just awfully satisfying to watch them interacting with this weird junk.
And knowing that I managed a reasonable compromise between honoring my strange heritage and my let’s all keep the baby alive! goal.
Bunter is now SIX! MONTHS! old. She has gone back to sleeping 11 hours at night. Bun Bun needed help learning to fall asleep at the beginning of the night and help learning how to go back to sleep in the middle of the night. Bunlet needed help learning to fall asleep at the beginning of the night. Bunter didn’t need either. And then suddenly she did. So we ignored her, and she cried a little, and now she doesn’t anymore. The spouse and I went OUT! several nights! this week! Twangy, these days with the spouse WILL come again. In as little as six months from now! On the other hand, it will never be just you and spouse again. But that’s part of the point, I suppose!)