You know how much I love you, right? After all, you and I go waaaaay back. Aside from the lady who takes care of me all day and that other woman who shoots warm milk out of her chest, you are definitely one of my all-time favorite people around. I love that you let me stick my finger up your nose all the time. I love your funny faces. And I love the fact that you want to hang out with me all the time.
But, Da-Da, I’ve just got to say one thing…What. The. Fuck? What’s going on these days? Where the heck am I? I feel like I'm inside one of those psychedelic Baby Einstein videos. Don’t you know I’m a Weissbluth baby? Holy crap, Da-Da! How about a little refresher course? ‘Cause you’re really messing me up these days and I’m getting a little stressed out here.
One day, I’m sitting in our living room, enjoying the soothing rumble of the sanitation trucks and the screeching wail of the fire engines. Next thing I know, we’re out in the middle of someplace called Texas. I don’t know where this Texas place is but the people there are fucking enormous! Don’t they read Baby Vogue? Have they never heard of Atkins, tofu or wheatgrass? And why the heck did you keep putting those cowboy hats on me and laughing? I’m going to remember that for a long time, Da-Da.
Anyway…just when I start to get comfortable back in NYC, what do you ass-clowns do to me? You screw up my routine again and take me to someplace called Denver. WTF, Da-Da? It’s freezing here! My milk is chilled like a martini and my sippy cup is like a freaking icicle! And is it me or is my nose like the Trevisi Fountain of snot? Seriously, you don’t have to feed me anymore. I’ll just eat this IV drip of boogers that keep streaming into my mouth.
By the way, what’s with this puffy red snowsuit? It makes me feel all chubby and stuff. Also, I overheard some lady say that I look like a little red Ewok. I don’t know what that means but it doesn’t sound flattering. That’s why I coughed in her face when she got all up in my grill. Besides, NOBODY squeeze my cheeks unless I say so. You know that, right?
Anyway…all I’m saying, Da-Da, is that I think we need to call a truce. You stop messing with my sleep routines and I’ll stop making your plane rides a living hell. Now, do me a favor please and heat this bottle up, ok? I’m cold and I need a nap. And if that lady comes by with those peanuts again, grab me a bag, will ya? Oh yeah, and buy yourself a scotch, Da-Da,and put it on my tab.
I love you, Da-Da. You’re the best!