puppeteering

Rudy is a person.  She's only three months old (today! Which means, and those of you who have given birth before understand this, my hair is now shedding in alarming amounts), but she is absolutely a person.  She thinks, feels, needs, smiles, and also, very sweetly, gurgles and coos.

And yet, since she was born, she's also had a series of handlers, myself included, who delight in speaking on her behalf, in a scratchy, screechy, whispery falsetto.  While Marley was at gymnastics class and we watched with other mothers and babies, I got a bottle ready for Rudy, and a couple of the other younger siblings looked at it longingly.  I angled Rudy towards one of the more brazen: "Step off!"  I quietly thought this was hilarious; I don't know that the other mothers did.  My sister Danielle spoke for Rudy during the recent ice storm that knocked out our power for a day: "What?  We don't have electricity in this house?  And Marley plays with rocks?  Wait, I have toys, right?  And heat?  What?"

I probably do it the most, but when Rudy was a month old, Todd delivered an outstanding performance as Rudy.  She even did the comedy classic "I'm gonna go downstairs."

Marley absolutely loved it.  She often asks for Rudy to talk.  Sometimes I use this to my advantage: "Hey, Bean.  Why don't you just finish your lunch like Mom said?  It's no big deal.  Hey, Mom's so cool, isn't she?"

I wonder how Rudy will feel about, uh, being so entertaining as an infant.  It can only last so long before she really is speaking her mind.  Marley certainly does.  "I don't wanna have Quiet Time!"  "Change your mind...RIGHT...NOW!"  And also, "Listen to my da-wek-tions!"  Is the phonetic spelling working for you?  Because if not, I can do a pretty good impression.  My Marley is even better than my Rudy.