It’s a deep, deep moan. The kind that comes from your diaphragm. One that I am sure actors and actresses work for years to perfect. It’s just a constant moan that ends in a high pitched squeal. Over and over about absolutely everything.
“I neeeeeeed (moan tone) millllk (high pitch squeal).” It’s his new means of communication. I think he enjoys the sound of it.
If I ever become a CIA agent and get captured and my enemy is forced to torture me for information, here is a note of what will work: Baylor’s moaning whine. I’ll give in. Whatever is requested – I’ll fold. It’s yours.
I am sitting on the toilet lid as he showers right now. It’s just moans. “mommmm, wash my haaaaiiiir. MY EYESSSSS! hhhgggggguughhhhh (moan sound).” I washed his hair. Now he’s yelling at me that I did not wash his hair and to please wash his hair. He has cried the entire shower but is refusing to get out. Just moans.
He lost his mind earlier – like, it was gone – when the ladybug he was holding flew away. “MAKE HER COME BAAAACK! HHGGGGUGHHHHHH!”
The marching band stopped practicing. “MAKE THE BAND COME BACK! WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE ARE THEY GOING? GO GET THEM!!!!!!” And then screams. So many screams. In my neighborhood.
The crow in our yard hopped up to a tree. “GET THE CROW! I WANT HIM IN MY YARD! HHHHGGGGGUGHHHHHHHHHHH!” Screams, crying, losing his mind…. again.
Does he think I’m God? Trying to explain that I cannot make the crow come back into our yard hasn’t quite made sense to him. Well maybe it has, I wouldn’t know…. all he does is moan.
Bedtime will be early tonight. It’s going to be the best thing for all of us. Really.