You know I love you very much. So much that I never want to be away from you. And generally, you're not such a terrible mother, but lately you've been slacking, almost to the point of letting me die. This is getting serious.
Maybe you don't know about some of the important things that I need to survive. So I decided to come on your blog (since you're always here, ignoring important things like me) and tell you exactly what I need to stay alive.
1. I need a good nights sleep. But not just any sleep will do. It has to be the perfect kind of sleep, the kind where I am in the bed next to you so I can nurse when I want, and I either have to be in the center of the bed so you and Daddy are falling off of the bed, or I have to sleep on the edge myself so that you are awake all night trying to make sure I don't roll off. Oh, and that nice crib with all his blankets and baby dolls? Forget that, that's only a place for peasant children who's parents hate them.
2. I need plenty of food. But not ordinary baby food. I need anything that you are eating. And it has to be cool enough to not burn my mouth, but the cooling off process cannot take more than .0000005 seconds or else there will be tears. And I also must nurse, especially in the middle of the night, and with that comes biting with my lovely and very sharp teeth and squeezing with very sharp claws- I mean nails. And snacks. There has to be at least 17 snacks a day. And when I am done, Mommy, you must clean the uneaten snacks out of puddles of drool on the floor.
3. I need a clean diaper and clean clothes. But that better be done fast, because when the diaper comes off the hands go straight down. You better hope there's no poop on my baby wiener because I'm gonna grab it and get poop on my hands if there is. And when you changes my clothes, it better not take too long or distract me from playing, because how dare you.
4. I need attention for my emotional well-being. It's not enough to simply love me, snuggle me, and give me kisses. I must be held as long as I want to be held, which is 23 hours out of the day, but you must also carry me where I want to go and let me get down and play when I want to get down. No more of this silly "No Roman you can't eat rocks" business. If I want to eat rocks, it's your job as Mommy to bring me all the most delicious rocks the driveway has to offer. Also, stop handing me off to other people under the lie that "your back hurts" or "take this child before I throw him." My wellbeing is more important than you, you are just being selfish.
Love your perfect son,
Roman
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