The World's First Naked Superhero: Answers to the Questions on YOUR Minds

This is Ninja Demon Baby. Allow me to explain what is going on in this photo for those who are not familiar with him.

1) Yes, he is naked.

2) Yes, those are SOCKS on his arms. Those are his superhero arm shields and muscle guards.

3) Yes, that is his flying dragon in his arms.

4) Yes, that IS a bamboo stick used for creating kabobs in the kitchen but handy as a Ninja Demon Baby weapon.

5) No, I have not been LYING all this time about just how imaginative . . . AND how naked he is.

6) Yes, it is hard for me to maintain a straight face when he comes into my office dressed this way, but I do.

7) Yes, I know. When he starts kindergarten in a year and a half they REALLY will not know what to do with him.

8) If you traveled here from my author site here, and yesterday's post, YES, he really DID single-handedly BREAK a car. A real car. Like one you drive. Yeah. I know. Unbelievable.

9) Yes. That is gray hair on my head.

10) Yes. Given his outfit of choice since he woke up this morning, that IS a smile on my face.

Top Ten Quotes from Demon Baby's 4th Birthday--with translation

1. This is the frigginest birthday ever.

Translation: This birthday was awesome.

2. I am NEVER going to kindergarten. Kindergarten is evil.

Translation: Even though it's a year and a half away, Mom, you will be spending a LOT of time getting acquainted with the principal.

3. My new bike is SW-EE-EE-EE-T!

Translation: Now I can REALLY scare my mom by riding at breakneck speeds.

4. Wait a minute . . . I'm not BIG. I thought I would wake up and be big.

Translation: I still don't get this whole growing up thing.

5. I'm going to drink my ice cream with a straw.

Translation: There really is no sense in giving me a spoon.

6. My pants are itchy.

Translation: I am going to be naked in about five seconds.

7. This shirt is too small on me.

Translation: See #6

8. I have an exceptional vocabulary.

Translation: See #2

9. I'm going to lick the salt shaker in this restaurant.

Translation: I hope the health inspector comes here regularly.

10. Will you come lay with me until I fall asleep. Otherwise I'm lonely.

Translation: Even though I am a Demon Baby, Mama, I will always love you, and I know you love me.

Scenes from Demon Baby's Birthday Lunch

Where do you take a little Mexican-American boy for lunch? To a Mexican restaurant, of course.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NINJA DEMON BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

February 25 is Demon Baby's 4th birthday. Here he is with new Ninja weapons. BEWARE WORLD.

What Demon Baby REALLY Is Thinking

STOP HUGGING ME, LADY!

Dear Worried Investors

Yes, the stock market is in the tank. Yes, people don't know whether to hide their money under the mattress, put it in the bank, or buy stocks while they are low. But I am here to give you some insider trading information.

Buy Charmin stock.

First, Demon Baby uses it as crime scene tape. He also uses it to tie up his siblings, to stuff in clothes to make scarecrows, and as confetti. Sometimes he lines up long strips of toilet paper and places them on his naked self as a "blanket."

Additionally, he has a bad cold. He is under the impression (see photo above) that he needs 500 squares of toilet tissue to wipe his nose. Each. Time. He. Sneezes.

In these times of uncertainty . . . buy Charmin stock. The parent company is Proctor and Gamble. As of this morning, stock prices are $50.95. That's UP by .84. I'm telling you. It's a sure thing.

Signed,
Demon Baby's Mother

Secret Naked Strike

I now know that Demon Baby is actually the reincarnation of Hugh Hefner. Yes, I realize Hef isn't dead yet, but he's PRACTICALLY dead, at like, what? Eighty-something?

You see, Demon Baby got a new bathrobe. He's never had one before . . . but I dug his brother's old one out of a box of clothes I saved. It's brown and fleece and very warm. After Demon Baby's last ritualistic Ninja bath, I held out the bathrobe.

"What's that?"

"A bathrobe."

"What for?"

"Your lips are blue from being in the tub so long. This will warm you up."

[Note: He takes FREEZING cold baths . . . his choice.]

He shrugged and put it on.

"You look handsome in in it," I offered.

Demon Baby snuggled in, then went off to play. About an hour later he returned--still (!!) in his bathrobe. This was like a new record of non-nakedness.

"I like my bathrobe."

"Great!"

"Wanna know why?"

"Sure . . . " I said. But deep down, I thought, do I really want to know why?

"Because, when you wear a bathrobe, you can be totally NAKED underneath, but no one has to KNOW you're naked. So it's like you're SECRETLY naked. Even in front of company."

"Good to know, Demon Baby."

As he walked off, I suddenly glimpsed him, head of an empire of near-naked Demons. And I thought . . . my God . . . my kid is a junior Hefner.

Dear Ziploc

I thought I would write to you and tell you about an ingenius and devious new use for your products that I am fairly certain you had not thought of when you created your Ziploc resealable bags.

Yesterday, my son, a.k.a. Demon Baby, took two boxes of Ziploc bags--which you tout for keeping food so fresh--and hid them, unbeknownst to me. Later, he filled them all with water and made water balloons with them when I thought he was merely going potty.

First, may I tell you that hurled, the Ziplocs indeed kept in the water. Bravo for your engineers! However, when Demon Baby decided to start hiding the water balloons under couch cushions and carpets for people to step and sit on . . . the seals . . . not so much. Perhaps you can work on that.

May I also tell you that gallon Ziplocs seem to hold even MORE than a gallon of water. In fact, they seem to hold a small pond of water. Particularly when they are spilled on my family room floor. Just TWO gallon bags in there were able to flood the entire den. Fascinating! And again, bravo for you!

I have been a loyal Ziploc user for many years now. However, now I will be storing your products under lock and key. Warning labels might be appropriate, too. Caution: Not intended as water balloon projectiles.

Sincerely,

Demon Baby's Mother

CSI

This is what greeted me yesterday. Demon Baby had apparently decided the upstairs was a crime scene.

Hence the crime scene tape.

Is it any wonder I buy toilet paper in bulk?

Dear Eureka

I salute you.

Granted . . . no one is supposed to have to take apart the entire vacuum cleaner, piece by piece and screw by screw. No one should have to run the extension hose through hot water in the bath tub for an hour until the encrusted Cheetos begin to disintegrate.

No one should have to remove all the canisters to cleanse them of orange dust like some bad sci-fi movie gone awry.

The rollers on the bottom of the machine aren't really meant to roll through Cheeto and toothpaste cement.

But the machine runs. And my Oldest Son probably learned a little bit of mechanical engineering, to boot. He is 13. When he grows up, perhaps you can give him a job in your design department. He has some ideas on how to make your product even better, honed from this entire experience.

Does it pick up as phenomenally as it did three days ago when it was new, before the Cheetos Debacle of 2009?

Of course not. In fact, it now probably runs about as well as my old one, which defeated the purpose of getting a new vacuum.

However, it DOES run.

So after the final destruction of the earth, when only cockroaches and rats will survive, they will have clean carpets once they mutate and figure out how to run them.

I notice you do not have a label on your boxes "Demon-Baby Proof" or "Demon Baby's Mother's Seal of Approval." But I salute you, nonetheless.

It runs.

The insides are oily with Cheetos residue, but . . . you, Sirs, have a good product.

Sincerely,


Demon Baby's Mother

Naked Strike Returns

Management thought it had successfully negotiated a union agreement with the Demons for the end of Naked Strike 2008-2009.

As such, Management conceded to ONLY purchase tag-free all-black fleece sweatpants and black turtlenecks (also tagless) from Old Navy. In return Demon Baby would dress as a Ninja and wear clothes 75% of the time, in return for bathing less because really, if you saw my last post, what's the point of a bath with this kid.

However, settlement talks have failed. Naked Strike has returned. This picture was taken five minutes ago. My family room? That was what greeted me upong my return from getting a haircut when Demon Baby's father was "watching" him. To be fair, it often looks like that when I am in charge too.

Yeah.

Whatever you are thinking about how much of a disaster that room is, the reality is worse.

Note strategically placed couch cushions. That is his Fortress of Naked Solitude.

10 Random Thoughts of Demon Baby's Mother

These are my thoughts today. The quiet tape running through my mind. The photo is from this weekend.

Random Thought #1: I realize my older kids have projects requiring markers. But really . . . would it have been so awful for them to have used crayons?

Random Thought #2: Do I need to purchase a SAFE for markers?

Random Thought #3: If I write the Eureka vacuum company my funny story about my oldest son vacuuming up 5,000 cheese balls with their vacuum cleaner and offer to let them use it for a commercial, will they pay me an endorsement fee? Or at least give me a new vacuum?

Random Thought #4: Four words: What Would Erma Do?

Random Thought #5: It say's washable markers. But no. Not really. Maybe if I washed him with Oxy-Clean?

Random Thought #6: Forget my Four Words. She never dealt with this. God rest her soul.

Random Thought #7: I have THE plan to stop teen pregnancy. Forget abstinence education. No, really. Forget it. Instead, require all teen couples to spend one entire weekend taking care of Demon Baby. All thoughts of S-E-X- will immediately and permanently vanish.

Random Thought #8: My parents tell me I was an obedient, lovely child. Everyone who seems to think this is karmic payback . . . sorry. Apparently this is just the universe playing a big, HILARIOUS joke on me.

Random Thought #9: I have a babysitter coming on Saturday. I pray he doesn't read this blog.

Random Thought #10: I really love my Demon Baby. A lot.

Clarity

All kidding aside, what I most hope to do with this blog is chart my journey.

You see, having four children from adulthood down to Demon Baby, I have come to be convinced of something.

Every child is perfect. They emerge from the womb utterly who they are. Perfect and delicious. They are the closest beings, I think, to heaven, to God, to whatever your understanding of him or her is.

And then, mostly, the world messes with that perfection. They are crushed by the insults of others, or they are hurt by a parent's careless words or a burned-out teacher's relentless picking, or by poverty or parents with significant problems, or in extreme cases, they are abused. Having spent a couple of years working as a mentor to unwed teen mothers in one of the worst 'hoods in Florida through Children's Home Society (as a volunteer), I can attest to teens thrown away. Just on society's garbage heap. The work I did was the most painful and rewarding work of my life. I cried, regularly. As I often tell a friend of mine, "I am rarely bored and often heartbroken."

And having spent some time thinking about it, I have come to the conclusion that it isn't about Demon Baby's journey but my own. I believe God sometimes sends a parent the child who will teach you about unconditional love in ways you simply didn't believe was possible. Apparently, God thought I was worthy of being taught. My lessons come in a tiny little package of impishness.

If my greatest pain in life is a Cheeto-encrusted carpet, I have a very good life indeed. I am a better person for having this child . . . I believe the universe looked at my personal failings--a lack of patience, an inability at times to be in the moment, a perfectionist streak--and said, "Ah ha . . . we have just the cure for you. He will often be naked, he will challenge you at every turn, and maybe THEN you will learn what it REALLY means to be a mother."

In the light of day, this was our conversation yesterday. He and I were on my king-size bed, whispering.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

"I'm very sorry I was so naughty."

"Why did you do that to the carpets?"

"For my superhero powers. When I eat food from the floor, it increases my strength a hundred times."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just how it works."

"If you continue to do things like that, though, I will have to take your superpowers away." (Thanks to the people who suggested this bit of Ninja Mama logic.)

"That's not possible."

"Why?"

"All my strength is deep inside my soul. You can't get it out."

"I will take it out while you are sleeping. Through your mouth."

He opened his mouth wide. "See that?"

"Yes."

"My superpowers are a hundred times bigger than my mouth, you couldn't pull them out in my sleep. To even try, you would have to surgically open me from the bottom of my head ALL the way down my back and even THEN you couldn't pull ALL my superpowers out."

"Really?"

"Seriously. That's how strong I am."

"I don't know that I can continue to debate this with you. Look . . . you made me cry. Do you like doing that?"

"No."

"So next time, can you remember that it was hurtful to your family and TRY not to do such a naughty thing."

He came very close to me and rubbed his cheek against my cheek. "Okay. I love you, Mom."

"I love you too."

We hugged for a while. And then he climbed from the bed and was off to challange the world. His last phrase and he left the room was, "Victory is mine!"

I was struck by the world he lives in. That he knows deep in his soul he has something special. And I reminded myself . . . I have four healthy children. My adult daughter calls me every single day of her life to talk for an hour and hangs up EVERY call with "I love you and miss you."

Today . . . I have perfect clarity.

The lessons we have to learn sometimes come delivered by little boys with orange hats and superpowers. And I am very lucky I was considered worthy of being taught.