Edie and Pop - Ep. 7 - Be My Giant

The continuing saga of text messages between me and my 3 1/2 month old daughter.

EDIE:  Pop, remember yesterday?

POP:  Yes, Edie.  I'm not a goldfish.

EDIE:  Thanks. Another word I don't know.  Could we keep it to my level, professor?

POP:  I truly don't know what that is.  You can inexplicably text with your pudgy little hands.  You know who Siri Cruise is but you don't know what a grandma is.  According to you, you've hailed cabs and have a better stock portfolio than me.  Really, I can't second guess your vocabulary or I'd be spelling out goo and ga.

EDIE:  See?  I got all that. Except for grandma.  What is that again?

POP:  Me and your Mom have moms, too.  That is a grandma.

EDIE:  That's not possible because you are giants and that would mean there are mega-giants roaming this land and then exponentially bigger giants upwards populating this earth.  I don't buy it.

POP:  Let's go over this again.  You will not remain this size. You will become 'giant' sized.  Theoretically.

EDIE:  When?  Because I'm still baby sized.  I saw that corn on the cob you were eating.  If I tried to put that in my mouth, it would be like someone stabbing me with a yellow sword that tastes good with butter.

POP:  See? Again, I'm baffled by what you know. And how do you know about corn? You can't have solids yet.

EDIE:  I know that!  It's not like you two don't rub it in my face all time shoving your pieholes full of whatever that crusty stuff filled with baked fruit is.

POP:  That would be pie.

EDIE:  See?  I didn't even know piehole was a compound word.  Ok. Enough of that. Now I have a question about humanity.

POP:  The way you phrased that is making me nervous.

EDIE:  Ok, so you and Mom are humans, right?

POP:  Yes.  There's not like a human certification test but if there was, I think I would pass it and your Mom would ace it.

EDIE:  And I'm a small human, according to your theory.  Are there other small humans?

POP:  Yes.  Those are other babies.

EDIE:  Well, those "babies" suck.  They never text me back and none of them want to bet on the ponies.

POP:  I'm just going to ignore that you're gambling before my anger compels me to come over there and replace your binky with a stern look.

EDIE:  I'm soooo scared. If I started to cry, you'd run to me like I was on fire.  I've got you figured, giant man.  I own you.

POP:  Don't push me, baby. I will sell you to the mob.

EDIE:  Oh, big talk, Daddy.  You love me so much, you'll turn into human pudding.

POP:  I can get over you.  We'll cry on the news like the Lindberghs.  And then I'll spread out the 50 grand they gave me all over the bed and roll in it like the movies.

EDIE:  Money is really dirty.  Mom will be so mad if you germ up the bed with money.

POP:   So don't push me, sweetheart.  I've got my dark side.

EDIE:  You wish.  Ok, why are some babies so hairy and get fed beef sticks all the time?

POP:  Oh, those are dogs.  They're not human.

EDIE:  Can dogs and humans have babies together?

POP:   No.  Though some humans have faces that look like they did.

EDIE:  Was that a joke?

POP:  You're a baby. You don't know what funny is.

EDIE:  Obviously, neither do you.

POP:   I'm calling the mob.

EDIE:  I'm going to sleep.  Where I can eat dream pie.

Edie and Pop - Ep. 6 - Baby Dentures

When Edie was only six weeks old, she learned how to text.  This is our continuing saga of communication.

EDIE:  Pop!  I saw a baby yesterday and he had teeth.  I need some of those.

POP:  You're only three months old.  You won't get teeth for a while.

EDIE:  But gums are so newborn!  I want some chompers.

POP:   Well, I'm sorry.  Teeth are fickle.  There's no way to tell when they'll come in. It might be in three months or in a year.

EDIE:  How do you know this crap?  Are you a doctor?  Oh my gosh. Wait until I tell the other babies.

POP:   Yeah, I'm a doctor.  That's why I'm home so much.

EDIE:  I'm going to be rich!  Yay! I'm a doctor's baby!  Is Mom a lawyer?  Is that why she's so good at winning arguments with you?

POP:   Hold on. You didn't understand my tone.

EDIE:  I was afraid because of all the paintings and books contained in this tastefully hip living space that I see I'm growing up in that you and Mom were some sort of weirdo idealists that didn't believe in selling out.

POP:  That's us. Weirdo idealists.

EDIE:  Wait. Which one is the joke?  Are you and Mom loaded or not?

POP:  We're in the arts.

EDIE:  Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

POP:   Hey, hey. Stop crying.  Your Mom is trying to sleep.

EDIE:  Oh, great.  Is she getting her subjective beauty sleep?  So she can wake up and add more pretention to the world?

POP:   Hey, little girl, art is how you came about.

EDIE:  Oh, really?  You composed me as a poem and then Mom interpreted me into existence via dance?  No, wait. Did you paint a picture and then sing me out of the wet canvas?

POP:   Are these euphemisms or are you just being obtuse?

EDIE:  What words are those?! Art words? Poor smart people words?

POP:   You know, I am going to find you a doctor dad.  As soon as we get done here, I'm putting you up for adoption on some medical craigslist.  Ugh. Obtuse means difficult to understand.  Euphemism is making a suggestive synonym for sex.

EDIE:  What's sex?

POP:   What? You don't? Ooooh.  Nope. I'm not doing this now.  Let's get back to teeth.

EDIE:  What is sex? What is it?

POP:   No way.  You're going to have to wait 12 more years before we have this talk.  Or hear it from one of your middle school friend's slutty sisters.

EDIE:  What is IT?!  I need to know.  Don't make me learn how to crawl so I can get to a computer that is hopefully on the floor and not password protected and google this.

POP:   Soooo teeth are a fickle part of the body. It's not a milestone in development, it just happens whenever the body is ready.

EDIE:  Just a hint. Puh-lease.

POP:  Don't do that.  Don't attach pictures of you with your duck pacifier. You know I can't handle that level of cuteness.

EDIE:  Just buy me some baby dentures until my real ones come and tell me all about this mysterious s-e-x.

POP:   I just shivered slash gagged at the thought of a baby with a full set of teeth.

EDIE:  You're stalling. My lawyer Mom would have already told me. Because she'd be too busy making money.

POP:   What's your obsession with money?

EDIE:  I want a solid gold diaper!  Go get a real job, Art School!

POP:   Fine. You want to know what sex is?  It's when two people hopefully might possibly love each other...

EDIE:  Ew, there's love?! Gross. Shut it down!