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.