Friday, 12 November 2010

There is no Ali, there is only Zuul

Ali, the baby formerly known as Darth, has dropped her signature deep breathing habit and the contemplative 'ko'. Now when considering the dark side of the baby force she screams like a Nazgul closing in on a juicy ring-bearing Baggins for breakfast. These outbursts are at at such an ear-splintering frequency that everyone in the vicinity experiences a sudden compulsion to hand over valuables and jump into moving traffic to make it stop.
Rebel yell.
Apparently this is called 'crowing', although to my ears it is more eagle-on-steroids than piffling chicken. The rare Genghis Khan victory shriek never used to bother me, but Genghis has now taken over and installed new sound amplification equipment. And it is a driving hazard. When Ali deploys sound-weaponry from the back-seat as I pull into a huge convoluted roundabout with seven exits (a 'WTF roundabout' in American parlance), my brain-radars are instantly jammed, and I fear not only for our safety, but for the entire local area.

Sometimes I can cut a screaming session short by handing her a hairbrush, which inexplicably causes her to drop the vocals and play quietly for several minutes. But the threat of hair-brushing, funnily enough, is the one thing that makes her big sister Ana react like a Sam Raimi deadite, so I have to be careful.

Sometimes I wonder, rather wishfully, if I will be deaf by next Tuesday. Bearing two children has left me with super-acute hearing. Walls are no longer sound barriers; I can hear my kids breathing through floorboards and crying across town. I would be able to hear them over oceans and across continents too, had I not sworn off travel for the foreseeable future. Earplugs are now placebo and I don't have the time to attend metal concerts, but there is a flicker of hope growing in my mind that Ali's Nazguling might just be the cure for my over-active ears.

Hearing aside, I'm not sure how long my nerves can survive this. Ana crowed for a short time and then stopped. Screaming, like Darth-breathing, will surely migrate into the ever-expanding cupboard of things that have passed. Till then, I remain in aggressive negotiations with Genghis and Gozer for the return of my sweet little baby.


  1. How lovely of you to visit mine, I love it here! You can always come to mine when you fancy a bit of quiet

    Tina xx

  2. If a hairbrush quietens her down, maybe one day she'll master the professional blow-dry and you'll have your own private hairstylist. Wouldn't that be something?

  3. Thanks Tina, much appreciated as quiet is always in short supply around here! Good idea Mid30s--that might be my only chance of ever again getting a proper haircut again, so I've got my fingers crossed...