At fourteen months, some kids can do plenty. Wave bye-bye. Blow kisses. Point out their eyes, nose, mouths or whatever. And then there is Jesse.
"Look at that Baby Jubbs - pointing out his eyes and mouth and nose. Our son can't do any of these," Mae gestures with her thumb to the boy sitting quietly in the back seat with his Kakak Roma. Jesse doesn't make a peep. It's almost as if he agrees.
"Yes, but our boy has practical skills," I protested, pointing out that despite Baby Jubbs ability to blindly follow the instructions of silly adults he has yet to learn to walk. Mae makes a monkey face at me.
"It's true," I explained, "Imagine if Jesse got lost in a jungle with Baby Jubbs and a tiger shows up. Our son will be able to run away while Baby Jubbs will be busy pointing at his eyes, nose, mouth and his pee-pee."
"Awww... you're jealous," Mae give me another monkey face, this time more condescending than the first. For some reason, it comes easy to her - the monkey face, I mean. Anyway, when we got home, Mae proceeded to educate Jesse on the aspects of his anatomy. Me, I think I'll teach him something more practical. Like grabbing a smart-aleck kid by the nuts or something.
Okay, okay, I'm jealous! Sue me.