Fake Samuel

Actually I'm not saying "C" - its "see." When I'm on my dad's shoulders its "See the widening forehead? See the thinning spots? See the occasional gray hairs? See how I can pull his hair and he doesn't even do anything to stop me? See the control I have here?" When I'm playing with Grandma's hair its "See the drool I just left there? See my snot smeared all over the place? See how I place my bodily excretions anywhere and on anyone I want?" See?

So I've been a bit cranked lately. Some have referred to it as " crankerpants ". Don't ask me, I'm not a doctor so i can't say for sure, but let me give you my side of things. See the thing is - GIVE ME WHAT I WANT. Its really fairly simple.Anyway on to current events: Did you know there are balls outside? And cars and the mail and trees and the sun? Its all there AND its occasionally above freezing so I get to go see them. The other day it was dark and kinda wet and there were these cold little balls falling from the sky making an awful racket in the house but The Folks wouldn't let me go see. Anyhoo , I'm gonna go google ' crankerpants ' and find out what The Father was talking about. I get all freaked out about diagnoses until I see whats really true out there on the internet , mostly chat rooms and forums moderated by users like " fibromyalgiachick 324" and " narcseeker 03." These people are out there for us,...

I know it seems like "that" or "cat" but its alot more than that. Seriously - do you think I really find pleasure in going from room to room just pointing at things and saying "that?" Or pointing out seemingly mundane household objects to anyone who comes in the room. Oh hey you, look at Dat, yeah, the chair thats been there for the past 10 years, now Dat the piano, now Dat the light. I mean c'mon. When I say "Dat" I'm pointing out the difference between you and me. That I take the time to appreciate the little things in life, the chairs, the lights, the piano, and I understand my place in the greater scheme of "Dat." Or "Daaaaat" as I sometimes call it.

The Folks are on my back like 24/7. I can't get a moment to myself. So sometimes, when they finally leave me alone for 2 seconds, I get up and walk around. Yea I've been walking for sometime now. I keep it on the down-low. As long as they still think I'm crawling they don't lock up the cleaning supplies. And I kind of have a swiffer habit. Not the mopping kind. The dusting pads. I sniff them. Kinda gives me a buzz. I think. Anyhoo its no big deal - its under control. The problem is, I forget that The Folks don't know about the ambulation thing. So sometimes, when they deny things that are clearly mine, or when I feel my personal liberties are being infringed upon, my sense of righteous indignation rises up and I decide to run to the closet, grab a swiffer pad and drown my sorrows in Lemon Pine scent. Or Citrus, by Everyday Living. Store brand. Not as good. Anyway as soon as I realize that I'm about to take off running, I remember that I'm ju...

Because for months and months all I could do was lay there and stare at stuff and then finally, finally , I could wiggle a little bit and play with whatever was put in front of my face. And that curbed my boredom for about 4 seconds. Then it got really bad. Unless one of the Folks is just rotating stuff in front of me, life is just really boring. So eventually, the pushups I do everynight in the crib before falling asleep started to pay off and I could crawl around. And that was fine for a while. Like 5 or 6 seconds. And I'm bored again. Sure I may look happy, but its really just a courtesy for the rest of you, so you don't have to share in my endless pain. And so it seems that, at times, I can amuse myself, by recounting jokes I've heard on Good Morning America. Of course, since no one on GMA is very witty, the only way they are funny is if you scream them.

Sometimes at night, after the bath is over, the story read, the door has been shut, and the lights are out - when the day is done - I think about my day, how I spent my time. And I cry. How did I improve the world today? When did I provide a meal to a homeless baby? How many babies did I help get off the streets? How many alcoholic babies did I bring to an AA meeting? How many songs did I write? Did I cure any baby cancer or eradicate baby tuberculosis? Did I learn a new language? or about a new culture? No. I did none of these things. I wasted another day playing. And so I cry.