Haters Be Tryin' To Silence My Game

Dear Blog-o-sphere,
I've had a time of major discoveries!

First, it appears that on the ends of the things that are attached to me near my head are small, multi-pronged apparatuses. There I was, minding my own business, doing what I do best, then, BAM! My eyes dart to those... things. I ask myself, "What is this magical thing in my throne with me? It does seems to flail around a lot." I stared at it for some time trying to deduce what it's for. Then (shock and horror!), a second one appeared. Still not quite sure what that are for, but I am working on solving that mystery.

Second, the hairy man and the nice lady took me to see the man in the green onesie again. This time he had another objective in mind. I needed to have my tongue clipped. I believe that his ultimate goal on this trip was to silence my wails for food or someone to wipe up my doodie. They said that I had to have my tongue clipped since it had grown incorrectly, but I debate this. I feel my tongue worked fine before. It flopped about and made a wonderful scream when I wanted it to. "But, it might cause you to have a speech impediment when you get older," they said. Well, I would have none of it! I decided to rebel and not get this elective surgery! That's a slippery slope. First, it's tongue clipping, then tummy tuck, then breast implants, then Rod Stewart-ictomies.

It seems my rebellion was short lived, however. I got my tongue clipped and feel no different than I did before. Soon, I'll have no choice but to belt out "Hot Legs" at the top of my wonderful singing voice.

Then, they took me to this place, woke me up from a peaceful slumber, and some lady started jabbing needles into me! They said it was my "shots" and that I "needed them". I think mommy needed them more than I did, because she almost cried when I got them. I screamed a bit because they did hurt, but not as bad as mommy made it seem.

Next, there is this amazing thing that has happened over the course of my time here. Where once the ground outside of my new humble abode (I liked the decor of my old one better, by the way. Nice shag carpet and everything) was lush and verdant, now it's changed to this powdery white substance that is very cold and a little wet. Of course, I don't get to see much of this stuff up close, since the nice lady and the hairy guy cover me up anytime we go out. But, if I scream enough, they carry me to the thing they call "windows" and let me look at it. It's bright and shiny and sparkles (daddy says, like a vampire. I don't know what he means.) Well, now it's everywhere daddy shovels it away from the house, but it keeps coming back. Mommy is excited about it because she "doesn't have to go back to that hellhole" (again, no idea what that means).


Finally, I've noticed a curious phenomenon. It seems that almost every time I go to sleep these days, I wake up in a different place. First, sleep, then, in the car.
Sleep, in some sort of bright building with things to buy.
Sleep, then in a metal tube that the hairy guy tells me is "30,000 feet in the air". Sometimes, I think he's insane. So, I yelled really loud to let him and everyone else in the tube know this. He was not amused and passed me to the nice lady.
Sleep, somewhere they say is Houston. I got to see Grandma and Grandpa West again and that was nice. I finally got to meet my Uncle Jay and Aunt Ashley. Uncle Jay is just as hairy as daddy is! I also got to meet my great grandpa. He seems like a nice guy. Although he did call me "Britches" a lot. I think it's because I was wearing my good pants at the time. I tried to explain that my name is Jack, but he had none of it.
Sleep, back in the metal tube. Daddy said that we were going back home, but one look out the window told me he was lying again. After all, it was just the sky and that wasn't moving. So, this time I not only yelled to tell him that he was insane, I pooped too. That'll show him! Well, he took me into this small room and started to change me. Then, the room started rocking back and forth, making daddy stumble a bit. Must have been some sort of amusement ride...
Sleep, back home.
Sleep, back in a metal tube. More very loud explaining that daddy is insane. More angry looks from everyone else.
Sleep, somewhere called Washington, D.C. It seems that this is the headquarters of a lot of high paid architects and builders. Everything there is ornate or under construction. Or both. There was this big guy sitting on a chair in a building, a big building with lots of steps and, as daddy put it, "filled with fat cats and pork". I told him that if they got rid of the pork in there, that the fat cats would leave. Or lose some weight. He smiled and kissed my forehead. I also spent some time with my Aunt Sara, Uncle Nick, and cousin Ella. I don't know what it is about the ladies, but they love me. Even the girls at my babysitter's think that I'm the bees knees. I have to tell them to back off sometimes and let the playa play.
Sleep, metal tube. Loud explaining of how hungry I am. Daddy looks for the nearest exit to jump out of.

It seems all of this time and space warping while I sleep is caused by a magical entity called "Jesus" and a time called "Christmas". From what I have gathered, he was born around this time a long time ago along with his buddies Santa Claus and Rudolph (he's a red-nosed reindeer it seems.) Mostly, people celebrate his birth by buying gifts for each other, crippling themselves by falling off of ladders while hanging lights that have nothing to do with Jesus, crippling themselves with debt from the lights and gifts, and eating and drinking to excess (possibly in honor of the spartan lifestyle that Jesus led.)

Daddy made sure that I finished this blog before I could go to bed. I'm very sleepy now. I'll try to blog more often, but I've been very busy keeping daddy up all night crying for food while letting mommy sleep. What can I say? I'm a giver. It's a Christmas present for her.

A Baby's Lament

Dear Blog,
Once again I find myself in need of venting my frustration. The hairy one and the nice lady have switched my bi-hourly regiment of liquid diet from the divine ambrosia that I was receiving to some sort of poor substitute. It smells a little like garbage juice, you know, the puddle of yuck at the bottom of the trash can when you take it out to the curb and as you put it down it tips over and spills all on your newly laundered pants right before you have to leave for work. I'm not sure what any of that means, but I heard "daddy" yelling about it one day.
Clearly, I didn't like this new stuff, but I thought I would humor my parents (they try so hard to please me, after all). After only a few attempts to grit my gums and suffer through it, I gave up. It tasted foul and, thus, I was forced to do the thing that any reasonable person would do: I started to regurgitate it in a most spectacular manner, all over the two of them, every time they tried to feed it to me, and fuss with out end.
Now, they have switched me to yet another substitute and this one is not so bad. I might still fling it back at them via my mouth just to let them know who is boss and keep them on their toes, but for the most part, I'll keep eating it.

They tricked me last night. One minute, I was sleeping, nice and cozy, on the nice lady's chest. The next: I'm in an unfamiliar place in a dark room, on a nice, comfy cushion. But, (horror of horrors!) I was alone!!! This would not stand. So, after a few seconds of wailing at the top of my lungs, the hairy one comes in and tries to placate me with Mortimer.

Glad you asked. Mortimer is my constant companion. I'm not sure what the technical term for it is (thus the name Mortimer), but it's this device that's simulates my feeding apparatus, but nothing comes out. In a way, it's something that gives me the illusion of being fed without being fed! Brilliant! Now I can "eat" without getting milk hips!

As I was saying, the quasi-ape tried to make me happy, but failed utterly. Finally, the nice lady came in and put me back in my throne where I belong. I go everywhere in my throne, so it only makes sense for me to sleep there.

I've also taken to a fun new game I have devised. When one of my parents is alone with me, and I know another of them is about to arrive, I unleash a cacophony of screams and wails the likes of which have not been heard in a fortnight. Then, when the other parent arrives in the room, I quickly silence myself. The effect of which is that the 2nd parent now thinks the 1st parent is insane for complaining about my crying. It's a real hoot!

Well, duty calls! My diaper has become full and I need for the nice lady to change me. Seriously. It's like Fallujah down there.

Until the future, dear blog.