Employee Evaluations (part II)

What can I say about Employee Number Two? Adorably, he thinks he is in charge. Mama and I get a kick out of letting him think so then later we chortle about it amongst ourselves. Truly, he means well, but he’s more like the lovable loser than the leading man. When they make my epistolary into a movie, central casting is more likely to call Woody Allen for a reading before Brad Pitt.

I’m still working on a suitable moniker for Number Two. He continues to request “Papa” ad nauseum. Sometimes I’ll give him a “Pa” or a “Ba” but if he wants a second syllable, he’ll have to earn it. The biggest problem he has to correct is absenteeism. He disappears for large swaths of the day to tend to tasks that have, at best, a tenuous relation to baby work. But he does earn points for returning in the evenings to play with me, read me books and sing me to sleep every night. Anyone who has ever heard him sing knows this is the next big problem to correct.

Basic truths seem to elude him. For example, one morning in a misguided attempt to be helpful, he thought squash would be a more appropriate breakfast for me than cereal. And he can’t accept the fact that there are other modes of locomotion than simply crawling and walking. I have invented a new form (patent pending), for which he is entirely unappreciative. In it, I remain seated while pulling myself across a tile floor, much like a dog with hemorrhoids. In truth, I am still working out some of the kinks. He insists I should be walking by now and while I have taken a few tentative steps on my own, I’m not ready for a morning jog yet.

I shouldn’t be too harsh with him, though. He does serve a useful function besides opening jars and chasing lizards out of the house. He and the U.S. Ambassador finalized an accord with the President of Guinea-Bissau regarding, I assume, the terms of my imminent trip to that republic. In this picture, after a particularly prickly negotiating session they agreed on an 8:30 bedtime for me. For my numerous jaunts, he arranges visas, purchases tickets, carries bags, serves as translator, and measures red carpets to ensure appropriate length. This is the gritty, unglamorous side of baby adventure travel but he manages to carry it off with a quiet dignity.

I also appreciate his expansion of my empire. To meet baby work quotas, he acquired an employee of his own. And not just any employee – he went to the top of Guinea-Bissau society and hired a well-known model/news anchor/actress. Here she poses beneath one of her billboards. Even I don’t have a billboard yet.

He's a work in progress, but worth keeping around because even though he fashions himself as the tough disciplinarian and provider, I can easily melt him with a simple sideways glance or one of my laughing fits. His easy manipulation will likely come in handy later as my demands grow.

Until next time, peace to all.

Omi, Baby Adventure Traveler

Employee Evaluations (part I)

My assistants have just completed ten months of service and I'm preparing their annual evaluations. I have decided, after some deliberation, to re-up their contracts for another year, although there will be no raises. As a token incentive to keep up morale, I am giving modest year-end bonuses – the gift of sleep. They are being granted longer durations of shut-eye punctuated by fewer bursts of pointless, frantic screaming.

I have begun recently to refer to Assistant Number One as "Mama." This seems somehow more personal and I think she appreciates the gesture. It takes so little to make these people happy. She goes by other names as well, for example my maid calls her "Madame" and Assistant Number Two calls her "Madame Wife." This always makes him laugh (and no one else). Number One is doing a particularly notable job attending to my whims. She earns high marks for coddling me when I cry in the middle of the night in spite of Number Two's protests.

For entertainment value, there is no question Number One is worth her weight in strained peas. She has me roaring with laughter from her crazy arm-flailing dances and elephant songs. She is the Lenny Bruce of hiding behind doors and then suddenly jumping back into the room, which I consider pure comic genius. The other one can be amusing in his own way but he's more of an acquired taste, somewhat droll, but often just weird.

Number One, or Mama, is usually present to prepare my meals and feed me (yes, yes, a full time job, very funny), pick my outfits, take me for walks, and be my hair stylist. So far, I have few complaints about her performance, but recent chat around the watercooler is that she intends to moonlight as a teacher at the local elementary school. Normally, such disloyalty would be met with harsh, and admittedly capricious, consequences. But the truth is, she is so wonderful at working with babies and other superiors that I have decided to share her with the world as part of my mission of spreading peace to all.

Another thing I like about Number One is her desire to constantly improve herself (although in my opinion, there’s not much to be done). As part of my organization’s new professional development program, I allow her to take classes related to her baby work. She studies French so she can better explain my importance to the locals. I also send her for training at the gym because hauling a dignitary of my impressive girth requires top-notch physical condition. Most recently, she has equipped her teeth with braces to make her look more like a teenager. I respect her attempts to emulate adolescents, for they are the pinnacle of evolution. Teenagers know everything and they are never wrong. I aspire to join their ranks one day and thus complete my long journey toward perfection.

Number One has been with my organization for longer than I can remember and in many ways, she is the soul of the whole operation. Number Two is quite a different story and will require a whole separate letter. Until then, peace to all. Omi, Baby Adventure Traveler