Life is good here, I gotta say. I have an army of people doting on me, all the plastic shorts I can soil and this giant bed. I mean, screw the crisper. This is the life. The only thing better would be a waterbed. Do they still make those?
I had some visitors today. A whole bunch of them. My grandad and grandmom, Aunt Jenny and Uncle Conrad and my cousin Emma. And much in the way that I snowed Nana, I convinced these people that I was well behaved. See:
One troubling development is that they learned this sneaky trick from the big dad guy. I used to be able to activate the milk machines just by crying but apparently that gets sort of annoying when it's 7 or 8 times an hour, so now sometimes I just get a finger. And as much as I don't want to suck on it, I can't resist the power. Apparently, sucking is a reflex. That sucks.
Anyway, it's late and I gotta go. I'm not very popular around here right now. Once all the visitors left I relaxed little in the best way I know how: by squealing and screaming and turning red until someone feeds me, then I eat for hours on end, with short breaks for screaming, and sleep for 45 or 50 seconds before starting the whole thing over again. I think it's a pretty efficient use of time. Other awkwardly huge humans don't seem to share this sentiment.
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