Tonight at dinner, the baby decided she was full and that, instead of continuing to put food onto her fork and into her mouth, she would instead put it onto her fork and then onto the table. And then she’d smear it all over the glass that was cleaned for a house showing just a few hours prior. I wasn’t a fan. I don’t like loud babies or messy babies, even if said babies are the fruit of my loins. I grabbed her fork.
She looked up at me and said, “Daddoo?”
Response: “No more smearing, baby. You mess with the bull and you get the horns.” And then I did the UT “hookem horns” sign with my hand and dared her to move.
She did move. She slid off the stack of three phonebooks on which she sat, turned around, and pushed each one of them onto the floor, pausing just long enough between each shove that I could recognize the personal injury lawyer on each. I’m convinced this is how babies give the finger.