Fake Samuel

As previously mentioned.

If you don't know what I'm saying, quit trying to fill in the gaps with your own thoughts ok? Number one, I'm not you, I don't think like you. Number two, I need nothing from you, apart from food and cleanliness, and a place to nap. Number three, I don't know who your friends are, but they kinda wig me out sometimes. Number four, how am I supposed to learn to wipe myself if you keep doing it? Can't you see I'm trying to help Sheesh. Number five, why don't we have Tivo, I heard about it in nursery the other day. I need it. Number six, whats with sticking me in nursery all of the sudden like you're too good to try and hold on to me while I make noise and try to eat the notes you're taking in Sunday school. Number eight, when are you going to teach me to count, sheesh, I'm like 8 months here. Well, almost. Number nine, I just want you to know that whenever your back is turned, I eat EVERYTHING I can get into my mouth. Grass, hair, fu...

and I get a little crazy with it sometimes, 'cause the world looks cooler when its kinda spinning around you, and anyway, the mother's like "is that normal?" and the father's like "probably i dunno" and all the while I'm freaking out. Sure I'm in control of it now and I can turn it on and off at the drop of a hat, but what if someday I can't stop and I get that Shaking Baby Syndrome that you hear so much about these days, with the retinal hemorrhages, and the cerebral contusions, and the need for special schooling. I have to keep reminding myself not to think about this stuff pre-nap. I get so worked up.

This was a wonderful addition to my crib. I fall quietly asleep each and every night to the soothing sounds and tranquil lighting effects of my Ocean Wonders Aquarium. Fish swim by, clams say hello and the contraption plays one of 3 mesmerizing songs: Twinkle, twinkle little star, that Lullaby song, and some other song that no one can identify. I've taken the liberty to come up with my own lyrics for the third song: Cry, cry, cry your eyes out and weep, the day is done. Light is gone forever, will the morning come? Everyone who feeds me has left me here to die. Maybe if I'm louder they will hear my cry. Chorus: Yell, shriek, whine, despair Two thumbs up.

"Under the Tagalong Tree" is a complex book filled stories about family dynamics, social injustice, race struggles and politics. Centered around the delightful "Muffin" family, it follows the day to day life of Maxi and Mini, the children of the family. What most might describe as boring, poorly written and at times racist, I actually found to Forget it. This book stinks. I keep asking for Hugo, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, etc, and I get this. Seriously, the boy's name is Maxi. One half star because of the colorful pictures.

on the mother's phone and she's like here talk to daddy and she hands me the phone and I listen and he's all like hello, hello, hello can you say hi to dady and I'm like NO i can't I'm 7 months old and I haven't yet mastered the art of talking on the cell phone would you just give me a break and because I'm so upset I decide to eat the phone and then the mother's like no don't eat the phone and I'm like how else am I to voice my frustration with my limited abilities, other peoples expectations and society in general. Then she gets back on the phone and its all oh he's trying to eat the phone again. Someday.

and every time I do, everyone around me tries to describe what I'm thinking. You know, "he's happy" or "he's making noises and that's fun for him" or "he's pooping" or whatever. But they're wrong. Wanna know what I'm thinking? Sometimes, yea, I'm pooping. Sometimes I'm contemplating "should I poop?" or "should I poop now?" Sometimes I just did poop and I'm kinda mashing it in good, to make it harder to remove. And sometimes I'm pooping. Oh I said that already. Anyhoo.