Changing Chicken

Welcome back, kind readers.

Because I continue to smack my father, out of natural elation of course (sometimes with a beautifully colored, hard, wooden block in my hand to his exponentially increasing forehead), Papá has insisted I write this mail in a voice befitting my refined maturity.

One thing about Papá is that he appreciates a good routine.  Without one, he can be a little lost for activity with me.  Armed with a routine, however, Papá treats me to the extensive gamut of playtime experiences - "nudy patio" time, "reading after meals before I escape from my high chair" time (with special thanks to Grafton for the new books), and, since the very beginning, my traditional "walk with big sister" time - to name a few.

A good routine must evolve with my development as well as synchronize with my mood and the concurrent parental necessities (chores).  As my unrelenting (and rightfully so) development shifts weekly, the routine is carefully doctored accordingly (or I let them hear about it).

Tonight, for old times sake, I want to share a glimpse of what the routine used to be like in Brattleboro (I hear it snowed up there today?).  The following is an ode that my father has finally penned, with my guidance, in honor of my favorite changing table companion - Changing Chicken.

(Nursery Rhyme Intro)

Every morning when you wake up
I feed you and we take a walk
And then I wash the dishes while you play

But before you eat and after our walk
Don't you think that I forgot
Our faithful friend who helps us through the day

(Kick in the Indie Rock Electric Guitar, Bass and Drums)

(Verse)
From the planet of Diaper
In the Underpants Galaxy
He's the master of distraction
Completely gum-able with strap and ring

(Pre-Chorus)
When you're feeling wet and strange;
When you're diaper needs a change -

(Chorus)
Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!
Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!
Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!
Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!

(Bridge from the voice of Changing Chicken himself)
There's no need to cry
You can pull me, you can bite
There's nothing wrong with you
This will all be over soon

(Pre-Chorus)
If you're feeling wet or strange;
Or what if you just want to play?

(Chorus)

Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!

Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!

Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!

Changing Chicken and the Table of Change!

(Breakdown to accompany Chorus repitition)

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Chicken

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Chicken

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Chicken

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Chicken

(Out)

Changing Chicken, Yes He Does - YES HE DOES!

I hope you enjoyed our song.  While the last line may not immediately make sense to you, I assure you that after only one of my patented changing table fits, you will immediately understand the environment in which this astonishing and remarkable creativity is possible.

With much Love,

August

P.S. - I am pressuring Papá to upload a picture of Changing Chicken and to record the song, but he argues that he will not be able to record the song properly until the ringing in his ears from my perpetual changing table fits ceases, i.e., until I quit throwing fits on the changing table.  Also, Changing Chicken himself seems to be gravitating more and more often (and quickly) to the floor...

Like I mentioned before, this is a glimpse of the past, when that was the routine, and when Changing Chicken actually worked to help soothe me.  These days I prefer songs - not this song as much as "Moo Bear" to the tune of "Bingo" (Moo-B-E-A-R).  Moo Bear is what they call Amazon when they are enchanted by her doggie-do-good charm.