Оксана Петряшова-Овчинникова – About babies. Polya and I (страница 1)
Оксана Петряшова-Овчинникова
About babies. Polya and I
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Chapter 1. Dinner and Polya
Somewhen before I thought we live in a house, but mommy told me – almost. There are a lot of little houses in our house; their names are
I have a doll. She is a tiny one here, a baby doll, so do not think she is like any other doll. I call my baby doll Polya. Polya is quite big for a doll, she has soft hands and soft legs, knows how to drink and how to wee, and can open and close her eyes as the real baby. Polya is my daughter and she is my res-pon-si-bi-li-ty. Don’t know the look of it but I do have special bag for it.
My Polya has a lot of things and we are together all the time.
“Babie, it is meal time. Go wee, wash your hands and sit down at the table.” Mommy calls.
I like it when mommy calls me
I pick Polya up and run to the kitchen.
“You’ve been to the toilet, haven’t you?” Mommy asks.
“Nope.”
“You’ve washed your hands, haven’t you?”
“Nope.”
“And why is it that you are here?”
“Polya, have you been to the toilet? Have you washed your hands? Ay-yay-yay! Let’s go.”
And we are heading to practice he-gy-en (it is a very smart word, I’ve been memorized it for ages).
I take a lot of toilet paper (in the end all have to be clean!) and put it into the bin (mommy insists I use it every time I’m in here), then I wee, get dressed and run to the bathroom. I wash my hands and head to the kitchen. There is a lot of water on the bathroom floor, and it’s slippery somehow, but it can not stop me and Polya (it is a challenge to stop us at all).
I place Polya in a toy chair (green, with strawberry-pattern) and buckle her there (why, it’s so easy to fall out!). I put a toy plate full of toy meal in front of her. Mommy says it is from plastic, but it is t-o-y, she just doesn’t get it. I sit down at the table (yes, I do have my own table, for children, pink, and a pink matching chair). There is soup in my plate with star-shaped pasta in it. Also there are an egg and something green, but I’ll pull out everything odd: I am not a goat to eat green, no-no. And a piece of bread, a big one. I destroy this bread and rub it with both my hands. It is already a nice pottage in my plate. Now everything is as if under the snow. Pretty! I pull out all of the green. The soup is hot. I put a spoon in it and fish corns out. It’s a pepper, but like corn, and it tastes bitter so I don’t eat it. I make a pile near my plate. I blow loudly («Fu-u-u!») and drops fly in all directions possible. That’s it, I am full.
“No, this won’t work: you have to finish it.”
“Yes, Polya, finish it, mommy put a lot of effort into cooking!” I tell her and it is a meal-mess what we do the next half an hour. Now it’s definitely it.”
“Mommy, I’ve eaten everything! Thank you!”
And I turn to Polya:
“Remember to tell
I get up from the table. And what is under?.. I shake a finger at Polya:
“All the crumbs are on the floor. You did bad, Polya, ay-yay-yay!”
I put a chair near the sink, take a rag and clean it up. Some stains remain but it’s nothing: crumbs are finally in the sink, not on the floor.
“Remember to wash up, won’t you?” Mommy says. “The rag is under the sink… Just in case…”
Chapter 2. Bath and Polya
There is a shower noise in the bathroom. I shake a finger at Polya:
“Don’t peek: papa is naked, he is taking a shower. Right now we’ll bath you too.”
I grab my fish shaped watering can (granny presented) and go to the kitchen. I full the toy bath with water. Check it with my bare hands because it should be warm for not to burn my Polya’s skin. I pretend to add some foam from the bottle. All I have is a toy, but mommy has a real foam in the bathroom, in big pretty bottle, and it smells like roses, later we’ll sniff it too. I beat water with my hands to make my imagined foam fluffier. That’s it.
“Polya, help me: strip. Good girl. Let me rub your back, and tummy… Now you are super clean!”
I wrap my baby doll in a towel with a corner. I have one, for dolls specifically, and there is a duck face on its top. My Polya – is a good girl: she loves bathing.
“Kitty, it is time for your bath.” Mommy calls for me.
“Coming! But don’t look at my backside while I am nude!”
Chapter 3. Diseases and Polya
“Ay-yay-yay! You have to wear your socks: the floor is cold!” I say, grab a nappy (green, with a horse-pattern) and wipe Polya’s nose.
“I will treat you.”
I wrap my doll in a nappy and put her to bed. There are all I need in my toy aid kit. And pretty much more.
“We’ll need this, this too, and…” I take the bottles and lay them out on the table. All of them are the same, of course, only names are different, but I do know for sure that this one is full of sore throat syrup, and here is salt water for the nose.
“Now, lie still.” I say to tightly swaddled Polya. “I’ll get honey and chamomile.”
I give Polya tea and tell her:
“There is a special box in the kitchen – an aid kit. And there are me-di-ci-nes in it. One must not touch it! That’s why your syrups are in here, in doll’s aid kit.”
“Kitty, it is late, time to go to bed.”
I do my business and jump under the blanket.
In the morning I touch her forehead – no fever.
“You see, I’ve done it well.”
And Polya smiles.
Chapter 4. Half an hour without mommy and we
Mommy says she needs to work a bit. Polya and I exchange glances and head to the kitchen (mommy has just mopped the floor). And what is it we want to do?
“Let’s eat!” I tell Polya and get some bread. We break it into little pieces… And suddenly I spot the bucket. It is not a real bucket, of course, but a flowerpot, but it looks quite like bucket. And like potty too. And I don’t want to go for toy potty at all (we should not interrupt mommy: she is wor-king).
“Polya, sit on it, it is time for you to wee!”
I place her on the potty, but there is leakage somewhere…
“Ay-yay-yay, Polya!” I shake my head.
We’ll clean it later.
I hear a noise in the hall – mommy’s head pops from the room and quickly disappears (kids need to be supervised!).
I put the
“Polya, let’s paint some flowers!” I take my cup (no, I don’t want to drink right now but it will do for drawing), trembling brushes (mommy has pink brushes, she usually paints with them on pastry) and watercolors… But there is no paper!
“Polya, look, the table is white!” And we spread it on the table with our
Tired.
“Let’s wash our hands.” I tell Polya, take her to the sink, turn the tap on full.
“Ooops, we’ve wet the sleeves…”
Polya has something else on her mind, but mommy steps into the kitchen, interrupting this…