The Story Of My Life

You have probably guessed the basics, but let me enlighten you some more. Ahem. My name is Zayn, and I am all of 2 years and 8 months old. This book you have in your hands is my story so far. Now don’t go around asking foolish questions like, how the hell can a baby tell a story, how can a baby know so much, yada yada, let me stop you right there. I just do. Know a lot, I mean. Babies are faaaar more intelligent than given credit for, you see. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. So I am a 100% Indian baby, born and being brought up in Germany. I’m the first child and the first grandchild (on Lolo’s side of the family) and obviously have earned some super special status because of all that. The whole entire family freaking adores me. Their Whatsapp group exists almost solely to share my cute content. EVERY thing I do is considered cute. That group probably has enough footage of my life to create a Netflix documentary about me. Lol. Just so you get an idea of how I look, I am 92cm tall, have black wavy-ish hair that falls over my forehead, big black eyes, long lashes, wheatish skin and, although I wouldn’t qualify as a chubby baby, I am as cute as a button. You’ll mostly find me dressed to the nines. Checkered formal shirts and Khaki pants, white turtleneck pullovers and plaid pants. Heck, I even own two blazers. Blame Lolo and Papa for that. They play dress up with me like I am their Ken doll. I don’t mind though. I like being dressed smartly and preening in front of the mirror. You think I am a narcissist? You are right. Us babies, we have an unshakable sense of self-confidence, you see.

Let’s talk a little about my early life. If you did the Math, you know I am a pandemic baby. I was born in 2021. Back where I come from, it is typical for the grandparents to be present for the birth and during the early months. There are grand functions where scores of relatives come bearing gifts. The first time your hair is shaved is supposed to be big deal. None of that for me though. I was born on a sunny day in a hospital in Bayern. It was a scheduled C-section and I made my appearance without a lot of fuss. Someone snapped a picture of the three of us immediately after. I look terrible in it. Like an alien. With swollen eyes and head. Ugh. Lolo and I stayed in the hospital for 5 days, which went by pretty uneventfully. I slept a LOT, we both struggled a bit with the nursing part, and both of us were pretty much in bed the entire time. Papa would come visit us very frequently and hold me in his arms. To make up for them not being there for my grand arrival, the grandparents video called nearly incessantly, demanding to know every last detail. At the end of 5 days, we were finally allowed to go back home. I took my first car ride, strapped tight in the car seat. Lolo and Papa made a big show of giving me a home tour. I had my own bed, a baby swing and my changing table was stocked and everything. Like I already mentioned, Lolo and Papa were newbie parents. So, of course, they made tons of rookie mistakes which I had to endure (Sigh), But I did kind of turn their life on its head. I wailed long and loud into the wee hours of the night. When one of them finally lost their cool, the other would take over. There were times I felt the idiots had no clue as to WHY I was crying in the first place. If I cried because I was hungry, I would sometimes unnecessarily get my diaper changed. Ugh.