It’s true, I am. I am surrounded by monkeys. My husband climbs like one, has arms, legs and ears like one, sits like one and is born in the year of The Monkey.
Monkey-Husband picking breakfast (Yes, it was in the summer. Oh summer…)
Then came my son and I checked which Chinese zodiac he was born in – The Rooster! Same as me! Awesome. My Chinese friend heard me talk about this and corrected me; the Chinese new year is celebrated in February and since he’s born in January he’s not a Rooster – he’s a Monkey. Like my husband. Iggson has ears, arms and legs like a monkey. He grabs things with his toes, like a monkey. He even sits like a monkey. He tries every possible route to get where he want to go because he also climbs like a monkey. If he can climb there, he’ll do it.
Neither the fastest nor the least complicated way to get your favourite teddy bear, but by far the most physically demanding
They live of fruit and greens as well, those two. I’ve tried to make meatballs – because if you’re Swedish you bloody well must have it built in from start to love meatballs – for Iggson but he wouldn’t have any of it. He loved the avocado, the pineapple and the stomped potato that came with it, but not the meatballs. I’ve heard babies have it built in them not to like greens but just like most things that you hear about most babies that doesn’t apply to my baby. He’s different in all ways. He follows all the curves but in his own ways. The nurses always say “we’re not worried – we’re just not used to seeing a baby solve this kind of problem this way”.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna pick up my snacks”
So yes, Iggson loves to solve problems in his own way, in his own time and pace. For so long he wanted to reach the beautiful Dendrobium Nobile (my other baby) in the window but he didn’t know how. Then one day he remembered that he has a toy box. It was not by the window but under his dining chair. He learnt how to climb it. He learnt (fast!) how to move it. And all of a sudden he was standing on it – admiring the beautiful dendrobium. It’s so weird, how he destroys everything in his way; toys, books, clothes, food and he has for sports to tip over babies who have just learnt to sit and still wobble a bit – but he never touches my plant. He’s eaten the picture of my sister at the Nobel party and he’s melted the candle light in his sweaty palm, but he never touches that flower. Isn’t that strange? What am I saying, babies are strange.
“This flower truly is remarkable. I understand why mam divides her love equally between the two of us”
It feels like the only thing I do nowadays is watching Monkey Channel but live. I’m trying to save my little Monkey family from falling when they climb into spaces they shouldn’t be. Never thought I would use the sentence “don’t eat with your fingers”… Well ever, but it’s all I am saying these days! I read an article about that good table manners is what separates man from monkey, originating when we, humans, discovered how to cut meat. That way we didn’t have to constantly eat greens to be full but we could cut up meat, eat it and be full for a longer period of time. I don’t know if it’s true, but it does support my theory that the rest of my little family are monkeys. They don’t care much for table manners and they only eat greens. They also hunt for food constantly and love brushing each other’s hair. I’m really grateful that they don’t throw faeces around though.
Monkeymanners – Toes are not cutlery