Beating Baby Gaga

"Ga ga. Rah-rah-ah."

"What?!?!" I really wanted to say WTF?!

"Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah. Roma Roma-ma. GaGa ooh la la."

Either I am the proud owner of a Lady Gaga protege or Kaila's totally fucking with me to see how quickly I'll lose my mind. I debated finding a piano. If she dressed in a naughty beekeeper's outfit and lit the Steinway on fire, I'd know I had something special to work with. Unfortunately, I also know that my luck never goes that way.

The so-called conversation continues.

"Ra ra. Blah. Blah. Blah. Ga ga goo goo roo."

I thought reading Mike's CFA book wanted to make me hurl rocks. I was wrong. Kaila's newest baby-babble habit is one trillion billion million times more horrible. It makes me want to reverse the birthing process. Even worse, she's doing this all the time. In the house. Out of the house. At the playground. On a boat. With a goat. In the rain. On a train. In a tree. In a box. With a fox. She will not let me be.

And, I do not like it here or there. In fact, I do not fucking like it A-N-Y-W-H-E-R-E!

Are you feelin' me?

I've tried ignoring her. She babbles louder.
I've told her that I'll only listen if she talks in NORMAL ENGLISH. She refuses.
I've offered up broken Spanish as an option. Nada.
I've said she'll repeat preschool if she doesn't cease and desist. She calls my bluff.
I've threatened to call the cops. She escapes to her room -- and then returns when the coast is clear.
I've begged Madan to intervene. He begs off.

I've now decided to fight back. I'm going to master the art of speaking Babyese. When she babbles. I'll babble back. But, with a twist. I plan to throw some Jive, Spanish, Gujarati and Runny Babbit in there as well to totally screw her up. My five-year-old Baby Gaga might be witty, but I've got stubbornness, stamina and some mama smarts. Girlfriend thinks she knows crazy, but she ain't heard nothing yet. Giddy up. Let the games begin.

Madan, put your Peltors on. We're going loco.