7:30 am – Clean again. Why does it take the grown ups 20 minutes to notice my soiled diaper? I could smell that thing in my sleep. Getting old must dull the senses. That would explain why they insist on feeding me tasteless mush at every meal. Is a little flavor too much to ask?
8:00 am – I’ve just completed my daily experiment on the viscosity of mashed banana. It turns out if mixed with rice cereal, it creates a paste-like substance, that will stick to any surface onto which it is thrown. Including the ceiling. While my assistant, Mom, resets the experiment my brother feeds his pancakes to the dogs. Even they eat better than me, and I’m pretty sure I saw the black one eat poop right out of my diaper the other day.
10:00 am – Our house is invaded by a hoard of barbarian children and their handlers. The smallest of the group was positioned near me where he proceeded to poke me in the eye repeatedly while shrieking like vulture. The adults seemed to find this behavior adorable and just stared at us with dopey smiles on their faces. Clearly I couldn’t count on them for help. So I did what any self-respecting person would. I threw up in his face.
12:00 pm – The invading tribes have retreated and the house is once again quiet, apart from the distant sound of my brother singing to himself on the toilet. I join in, testing my vocal range to its limits. I am about to attempt a high F when I notice that mom is headed my way with a purposeful look in her eye. No, don’t pick me up! No, I do not need a nap. I am an artist. Did you not hear me singing? I can’t possibly work under these conditions. Really, I insist. I am not sleepy. If you persist with this nap nonsense I’ll…
2:00 pm – I stand corrected on the nap. It’s milk time again, which gives me a chance gather my thoughts. I can’t understand why grown men want to stare at breasts. They don’t do anything. Maybe if they had a tv screen or an ipod dock built in. I bite down, just to see what happens. Mom yelps and pulls up her shirt. That must be the off button. I’ll have to remember that one for next time.
3:00 pm – Mom has left me in charge of my brother while she starts dinner. He is drawing on the walls with a crayon. I ask him politely to cease and desist, but he laughs in my face. It’s like we speak a different language. Clearly reasoning with him is out of the question, so I change my tactics. One of the crayons rolls near me on the floor. I eat it. That’s one fewer crayons he’ll use on the wall. Mission accomplished.
3:15 pm – Mom discovers the uncomissioned mural on her walls and removes the crayons from the room. I already tried that, Mom. She looks at me and wipes the remaining green flakes of crayon from my chin and tells me I need another nap. Talk about ungrateful.
5:00 pm – Daddy has returned from work. He must do something very dangerous all day because my brother is beside himself with excitment upon his return. His timing couldn’t be better because I’m pretty sure I’m about to poop an entire crayon. Won’t he be impressed?
6:00 pm – My plan to hide most of my pureed prunes down the front of my onesie has backfired. Mom insists I need a bath. She puts me and my brother into tub where he proceeds to spit water into my face. However, the joke is on him. I peed in the tub.
7:00 pm – Feeling too tired to eat before bed. Trying to remember where the off button was on the milk dispenser. I’ll just eat in a few hours. Then a few hours after that. I’ve got nothing but time.