A day in the life of
Lincoln Umut
Lincoln Umut
If Lincoln were able to tell you about what his typical day is like, this might be what he would say…
Now that I’m sooo much bigger than I used to be, Mommy and Daddy take me out and about more often. Usually, though, I’m the one who has to get the day started. When I wake up, I start by asking nicely, but if they don’t hear me I’m forced to get a little bit louder. While Mom gives me some milk she sings a song that she learned when she was a little girl in Thailand, “one nee ben one, one nee ben one ti prajao kong krai!…” this is the day, this is the day that the Lord has made!... Then we eat yogurt and fruit together. That’s all good, but after breakfast Mom takes so long to get herself ready for the day. Plus she always makes me have at least couple diaper changes before we go. Diaper changes are incredibly boring, so I liven them up by trying to crawl around on the changing table. When they (inevitably) stop me from doing that I just kick and scream to let them know how displeased I am. Apparently they don’t understand me yet because they keep insisting on changing my diapers all throughout the day.
Now for the interesting part of the day: I get in my stroller and we go out of the apartment. Some times we take leisurely strolls in the park, which I know is a ploy to get me to take a nap. (It usually works.) Other times we weave in and out of crowds of people at the market-- who I like to call “my adoring fans.” Most usually, I go to language lessons with Mommy. Mommy and her tutor sit at desks and read and talk and write, which seems so tedious to me. They encourage me to sit on my blanket and play with toys, but crawling in between the desks is way more exciting. The ladies at the school say I should be their mascot because I'm cute and because I'm their "youngest student." Mom says İnşallah I will speak Turkish fluently when I grow up.
Some afternoons we visit Mommy and Daddy's friends. The men mostly tell Daddy what a manly man he is for bearing a son. My favorite friend of Daddy's is Uncle Luna Park (or Uncle Amusement Park) who promises to be my personal jungle-gym as I grow up. The ladies don't toss me around quite as much. Mostly they just complain about how I need to be fattened up, then feed me tea and cake when Mommy’s not looking. But then again, even Mommy gives me little bits of Ramadan dried dates, which are sweet and delicious.
By the end o the day, I’m pretty exhausted, but I’m never quite ready for bedtime. I’m always up for a game of futbol with Daddy or exploratory excursions throughout the apartment. However, once my evening oatmeal slips down into my tummy, sleep doesn’t seem too terribly awful after all.
