The baby still has a few wrinkles
DEAR HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATOR,
Just over a year ago, we brought a baby home from your fine hospital. At first, we had no problems with this new baby boy. But lately, several problems have popped up of a functional nature for which we have no explanation. We thought that you, as a distributor of babies, could provide some answers.
First, he leaks. No matter which direction you turn him, fluid tends to spill from some part of his body. This can be embarrassing and uncomfortable for him and whoever is holding him at the moment. He’s like a watering can minus the handle. And apparently, he holds about two gallons, maybe three.
Also, he makes all sorts of odd and disturbing noises, day and night. Far as we can tell, the strange sounds seem to come from his mouth but are not isolated there. Sometimes they come from the end with the diaper on it.
His lower lip, meanwhile, works only sporadically. When drinking from a cup, he’ll take several long pulls before his lower lip goes completely Elvis. The lip seems to lose compression, and liquid cascades out of his mouth and all over my lap, at which point he laughs. I see nothing funny about the situation. I am becoming a human napkin. There is fungus growing in my shady places.
What’s more, the baby has my chin and a forehead like Texas, and I know there’s nothing you can do at this point, but his mother is distraught over this and insisted I mention it to you. She asked that I also mention that he is impossible to hold. He twists in all directions and prefers to nurse upside down, like a college kid doing shots of Jagermeister. This may account for much of the leakage, we’re not sure.
There are other problems with this new baby as well. His language skills leave much to be desired. He mews like a lamb, chortles like Jay Leno and wails like a debutante who turned her ankle getting out of a limo.
Perhaps worst of all, he shows no sense of ambition or interest in anything other than food and his very own tongue. In fact, he takes nothing seriously. He mocks politicians and religious zealots with equal devotion and, like many of us, sometimes cannot distinguish one from the other. To him, life is an Irish wake. In 14 months, I have yet to receive a straight answer. Remember the way John Belushi used to smile when he was inspired by some mad prank? That’s his smile.
He is also, like Belushi, unreliable in social situations, alternately screaming and throwing food. Although that is common behavior here in Los Angeles, particularly in the entertainment industry, we aspired for something better for our fourth child. Civil service, perhaps. Or maybe something in the hotel-resort sector.
Did we mention that the house smells like him -- a blend of talc, strained peaches and diaper pail? When we have visitors, they immediately faint, then crawl back to their cars as if fleeing the sort of natural disaster where smoke blots out the sun and ash falls from the sky. His laundry bucket glows in the dark. His little shirts smell of possum.
The house, recently remodeled, is beginning to resemble a Chuck E. Cheese’s. You wouldn’t believe what he’s done to the woodwork. There are toys everywhere, and the baby seems incapable and unwilling to pick up after himself. Though we have witnessed such behavior with our other children, it generally didn’t get this bad until they were 13.
His dear mother, no novice to the art of raising children, is distraught in ways we have never seen. The other night, just after the baby had peed in the bathtub, then on the bathroom floor, she looked up at the ceiling and began to speak.
“God?” she said. “Got a minute?”
I’ve heard that tone of voice before, and it’s never a good thing. Usually, it precedes some sort of court action.
So please advise on what warranty options we have with this new baby. Were there any recalls we missed? Do any lemon laws apply? How about a refund?
He is a late 2002 edition, with brown eyes and hair the color of a Rawlings baseball glove (I think we paid extra for that). We have received many nice comments on his appearance and have grown attached to him despite all our difficulties. We’re pretty sure he can be fixed but would appreciate any advice you might offer.
Gratefully, a distraught father.
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Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.
