It’s Not Easy Being Cakes

 Posted by on October 29, 2008  Add comments  Tagged with: ,
Oct 292008
 


Dear Blogland,

I know that my Mom likes to write about me, and how naughty I am and all that, but you people have no idea what it’s like in this house!

Do you think being two is some kind of picnic, or something?

I don’t get to do anything I want. I’ll be minding my own business, quietly decorating the kitchen chair with orange and brown markers, and Mom will come in and start yelling and freaking out! Sheesh. Take a chill pill why don’t you.

Personally, I thought my decorating was a vast improvement. Our house simply doesn’t have enough orange and brown. I envision a 70s A&W-style kitchen. Now THAT would be something. My mother would never go for it though. She’s soooo boring.

My sister is boring too. She gets all mad because I like to go in her room and mess up her perfectly arranged stuff while she’s at school, and I’m like, what is your problem? If you ask me, she needs to be more tolerant of my playing “style.” So what if I like to fling toys all over the floor, and never pick them up? It’s more fun that way.

And so what if I like to relax on the couch once in a while, and watch a little PBS Kids, while snacking on a tube of toothpaste? Big deal. Oh I know, Mom claims that toothpaste will give me a stomachache. Whatever. Like I’m buying that.

Frankly, I don’t know why everyone gets so worked up. So I like to eat chapstick, and throw food on the floor, and play in the toilet, and tear up the occasional book. Whoopee. Yes, I will admit that I blatantly tore the cover off “Goodnight Moon,” but I’m sorry, it simply was not living up to my literary expectations. Everyone says how it’s sooooo great, and a children’s classic, and blah blah blah, but I found it dull and uninspired. I need more excitement in my life. So sue me.

For some reason, everyone gets all upset with me when I air my opinions, and I’m like, HELLO! Last time I checked, this was a free country! I feel that I’m fully entitled to scream at the top of my lungs when I don’t get my way, and throw myself on the floor in a fit of rage. I’m merely expressing myself. And by the way Mom, when I wake up in the morning, I WILL yell, and kick the wall, and rattle my crib bars until you haul your lazy butt out of bed and come get me. It’s your job. It doesn’t matter if it’s 5 A.M., you better mosey on in here tout de suite. Don’t tell yourself that if you leave me alone I’ll go back to sleep. You’re wrong.

There. I feel much better now that I got that off my chest. My mother has really been slacking off on the job, and it’s about time someone set her straight.

The truth is, I’m not as “difficult” as everyone says. I’m just misunderstood. I mean look at me…how could someone this cute be anything but a delight?

[print-me/]