Che: Part II

Whenever I am in the same room as Che my blood pressure dramatically increases. I’m still a huge fan of the little rascal, but she’s ridiculously accident prone and is constantly falling down and beating herself up. For example, during Tems’ funeral she broke free and ran down the church aisle and out through the door, swerving and swaying like a tiny lunatic drunk. Mom bolted after her. They returned about five minutes later with considerably more facial bruising that before. In her continuing quest to outrun herself she succeeded and took a nasty tumble in the church parking lot. She scraped her face below her eye, above her eyebrow, and part of her chest. In short, she’s a menace to herself.

Today I decided to eat the rest of the pineapple I bought a few days ago. On the way to the third floor I heard the familiar “Baahhbb!”, baby for “Yo”. Che came running from her mother’s lap and gave me the universal pick-me-up motion. I refused:

“Che, I can’t help but notice that you’re a pretty terrible walker. I mean, look at your face. I think it’s high time you read the operator’s manual for those legs. Tell you what though, I’ll give you a hand.”

“Bahh Gabbo.”

“Don’t mention it.”

So, with that being said, she walked me to the third floor with one unbelievably small paw wrapped around my index finger. After I chopped up way too much pineapple for one person, and after Che finished covertly stealing someone’s boiled rice (grain by grain) I washed the knife and she put the lid back on the pot, a few guilty grains still stuck to her corner of her mouth. I didn’t trust her walking down the stairs so I picked her up and balanced her in one arm while I cradled my plate of pineapple in the other. When we got to the bottom I ate my pineapple while Che finished her face rice.

The biggest blood pressure spike came later that afternoon while Peter and I were watching The Simpsons. Che was running around the house, trying to scale the stairs to the third floor. She made her way to the middle landing before anyone had noticed where she was. It was then I looked up and saw that the middle landing window was wide open and at the perfect level for a shaky baby to take a fatal tumble through. I just gaped, wide-eyed as she walked around, not knowing what to say or do. Luckily mom noticed her and ran to close the window and scoop up her child. Now, whenever I’m in that room I’m going to be constantly looking in that direction for suicidal babies. Thanks a lot Che!

On a brighter note, today Che learned how to dance. Some Christina Aguilera video came on TV and I started absently tapping my foot. Che decided that tapping a foot was for people who didn't have any style and proceeded to dance:

Christina spouted nonsense (Some days I'm a super bitch. Up to my old tricks. But it won't last forever") and Che stomped around the house like a miniature rhino. It was adorable.

I said it before and I'll say it again:

I'm really going to miss that kid.