Shea

Remember the family that invaded my bathroom? Their daughter is in love with me.

Her name is Shea. She is one. Her hobbies include crying all night, smiling, staggering like a little junior drunk, bathing in a plastic tub, and scaring the life out of her mother by nearly falling down the stairs every morning. To spice things up, sometimes she nearly falls down the stairs in the afternoon. She's quite the little firecracker. She emotes a strange, fierce adoration for me that is honestly touching. The first few times we met she merely observed me from afar. I suspect I was more of a curiosity than anything. Eventually she mustered up the courage, and all her baby strength, to push open my door and announce that: a) "You fascinate me, you strange pale creature. I will observe you" and b) "On second thought, I need to type an email, step aside". She then proceeded to bash my keyboard with her tiny paws.

At first her mother was (understandably) protective of her daughter's interest in me. Realizing that the baby wasn't in the room (nor in an adorable heap at the bottom of the stairs) she would run to my open door shouting, "Baby?! Baby!!". Here she would find Shea pounding on my computer or using my cellphone for important baby business. She would escort 'baby' out of my room, but unless I immediately shut my door, Shea would bound back in 10 - 15 seconds later with a smile that said "I got away". One time when her mother came to the door I was trying to wrestle a packages of bright pink allergy medication from Shea's hand. I assume this looked fairly suspicious. Now, however, mom realizes that I'm not a threat and, unless I escort Shea out myself, she only gives her cursory glances on the way to and from the living room.

I've taken quite the shine to Shea myself. I'm not normally a fan of children, especially very young children. They are usually annoying, loud, and/or smelly. Shea's occasionally loud, and maybe smelly, but never annoying. She's interested in the world and I have become her guide. I speak to her like an adult and she speaks to me like a baby who wishes she could form words. Today we spent 10 minutes turning the fan on and off and pointing at it.

"It's a fan", I'd say.
Shea would look at me, look at the fan, sway a little, point at the fan and say, "Uh Uhnn Marnngh!"
What she really meant was, "Yeah, it's a fan. Goddamn these useless baby lips! You know I know it's a fan, right? Right?"
And I'd nod a knowing nod. I know Shea, I know.

After our discussion on the existence of fans, Shea decided that she wanted to take the lesson to the next level and get some tactile fan response. She reached out to touch it when it suddenly dawned on me: "Her hands are, like, super small!". I grabbed her arm just before she stuck her fingers between the rotating blades. Of course mom decided to poke her head in my room at this very moment. First she witnesses a stranger trying to feed her child bright pink pills, and now she's watching the same degenerate feed her child to a (woodchipper) fan. I was thinking of asking her if I could take a picture of Shea to put up for everyone to see, but I don't think now is the right time.

Shea's very cute and remarkably smart for a one year old. She is also fascinated by me. This is most likely because she: a) Doesn't know me that well and b) is one. I look forward to the coming weeks. I anticipate many discussions revolving around the properties of desks, lamps, books, and pillows. I also look forward to being a vigilant member of "Shea Watch" whenever I'm lounging in the living room. I think I've made a new friend.