How to Raise Your Evil Baby
Alana referred to the constant noise of Zane and the girls as a soundtrack of screaming. I prefer the metaphor of a constant screaming alarm system. I never knew how much babies ate before we had three of them, or how often it all needs to come out of the other end. The women just laughed at me when I said that. They also didn't appreciate my suggestion of just feeding them less to make them need to go less.
I don't know why, because everyone knows input = output. I even learnt that from a book on logical thinking that Mary Sue herself lent me. Apparently the logic doesn't follow to babies.
But then again, babies seem to be anything but logical. They don't just scream if they're hungry or if they've filled their nappy again. They scream if they're too tired or if they're too awake, if they're bored or overstimulated, if they're lonely or if there's too many people around. After a while I gave up on trying to work out exactly what was wrong with the two toddlers of the house, and just stuck them on the floor everytime they cried with a bottle, a doll and the potty. And after a few sleepless nights in a row, the women even agreed with my idea.
Maybe I should open a daycare centre. Indoctrinating toddlers is probably easier than indoctrinating adults.
On the flipside, though, I am rather good at being a criminal. And I don't just say that about myself. Alana thinks so too.
The work is easy, the hours are good (I don't have to get up before lunchtime, always a bonus), and I get to work with my massively sexy wife. What else could an Evil man wish for?
Well, apart from world domination, and that's only a matter of time, isn't it.
I also have a son. A son. Someone who is related to me and who I don't hate. I love him, if you can love someone who you barely know and who can't do anything much yet other than make stupidly loud noises and eat. Seriously, I'm surprised he's not double the size.
He's perfect. I'm not to be confused with someone who's soppy, or anything ridiculous like that, but I really could snuggle him all day. And he's Evil, to boot. You can just tell. Alana agrees. Mary Sue says that something that small can't be evil, although she acknowledges that with the parents he has it's more likely.
I say, with the parents he has, he's the most awesome baby on earth. Though not in front of the toddlers. They're learning to talk and I don't want them to scream at me any more than they already do.
And he has a seemingly inexhaustible supply of really tasty candy. Alana swears she isn't giving it to him, so the hospital must've. Or he just generates it.
You'll notice the lack of Daniel in any baby care. In the house father stakes, I'm winning. He's still faffing about with ice in the garden. Fairly unsuccessfully, also.
He's more interested in furthering my attempts at immortality than seeing his daughters. I think I'm flattered. But I'm also not totally sure I ever told him this was all an immortality attempt, and so perhaps he just really enjoys hanging out with a cold lump of ice all day.
Or wants to get away from his family. His kids aren't that bad, and neither's Mary Sue.
Talking of kids. Alana's still trying to get Leilani to speak to her. At least her daughter's picking up the phone now, rather than just ignoring the calls, but she's not saying anything more than a few choice words that even I won't repeat. I don't know if I feel bad for causing this rift, but I wouldn't do it differently. So probably I don't.
The paparazzi have descended on us in full force. The mayor's wife leaving her husband and daughter is a story, yes, but really for this long? We've all become minor celebrities on the island, and our living situation scrutinised. The islanders really are starved for entertainment if Daniel sculpting, which he does day-in, day-out, is exciting for them.
Not that I've ever seen anyone reading the gossip magazines the pictures are in, so maybe they really do care as little as we do.
And them being occupied photographing Daniel and his ice kept them out of mine and Alana's hair on our date-night. We're trying to visit every beach on the island together, which considering it's an island will keep us occupied for a while. Some of them aren't that great.
It's not the view I'm here for, though.
“What you thinking about, babydoll? You don't look happy.”
“I'm getting old soon. You're still young.”
“So what?”
“So, you might not love me anymore. When I'm saggy and grey, and when there's young hot girls parading round in their bikinis.”
“We'll get you some hair dye and some of those control pants.”
“I knew you were shallow. And there's no way in Simnation I'm wearing those ugly control pants. I'd rather sag onto your side of the bed than that.”
“If you sag onto my side of the bed, you're definitely getting replaced.”
“Knew it, Shark.”
She turned to me, and smiled. This was the way we'd always be. She's mine, and she'll always be mine.
“I love you,” she whispered into my ear.
“I love you too. And I'd never leave you. I'd cry if anyone else had you.”
“So not because you want me, but because you don't want anyone else to have me. You know how to talk to a lady, Shark.”
“That I do.”
As we left, Alana's worries lessened, I saw an older couple further back on the beach. It almost made me wish I'd get old with Alana. That was what I wanted to be, always together. Grey hairs and unreliable joints and all.
Although I certainly wouldn't want a baby to chase after with old joints.
