Thanks for providing the Servant with some sense of self-worth by visiting her daily. I'm glad she can find some sort of adoring audience somewhere; Lord knows it ain't happening around the castle. History has proven that providing the lower classes with empowering things such as self-esteem and hope only results in nasty uprisings later, so we'll be avoiding encouraging anything but indentured servitude around here.
Any-whooo, this post is for your kids, so if you could please just let them enjoy my ramblings, I'd greatly appreciate it.
Hey Fellow Children Neglected by Bloggers that Pose as Parents,
I've recently made a couple of discoveries that I thought I might share with you. I know that you'll want to toss yourself at my perfectly beautiful feet for the wisdom that I am about to impart upon you, however, I feel that in the matter of full disclosure, I must note that upon more than one occasion this month, I shit in the tub, so while societies standard definition of "brilliant" may not necessarily apply to me, we're young, we can define it as we see fit.
The above photo of myself was taken by my personal servant, also known as my mother. She was a tad stunned to open my bedroom door and find me not in my bed, but rather, perched upon my dresser, entertaining myself with the amazing things my face can do. She failed to find the humor in the situation and proceeded to strip my bedroom of any items except my dresser (which I can no longer climb, since I have no stools, chairs or tables left), two rugs, and my bed. (Side note: do any of you possess the number to Child Protective Services?)
After her little furniture moving stunt, she tucked me back in, and I proceeded to get out of bed, turn on the bedroom light, and empty the contents of my dresser upon the floor. Upon discovering this scene, she got a tad hysterical, which works well for me, after all, surely you're aware that keeping your parents on the constant verge of exhaustion and total mental breakdown can only work to your benefit.
Anyway, back to the story, kiddo's. So this entire "boundaries and rules" thing was getting to be a bit much. Then, in the midst of my darkened bedroom there shone a bright light. Simply do something to really get her attention.
I chose to quit breathing while sleeping, get a little RSV diagnosis to boot, just to be sure that all my bases were covered. From these small acts, the following results have occurred:
1.) Instead of having to go through the futile motions of developing healthy sleep habits, I now get to go to sleep with the Servant, who cannot sleep (remember: exhaustion is our friend) for she is worried that once again, I'll quit breathing. Apparently it brings back very nasty memories from my youth when I quit breathing on a more regular basis. Might I note that it at least gives her time to make up for all of the work she's been bitching about missing.
2.) I was placed on sick leave from my day care, thereby guaranteeing that I would be receiving personal attention on a daily basis from those that are smart enough to love me to death. The Servant is scrambling over this one; apparently trying to arrange alternate day care is a bitch and has rendered her almost insane. Just when she thinks her bases are covered, boom, another plan falls through. This keeping the balls in the air thing serves as an additional tool in exhausting the Servant, and also isolates her from most human contact, thereby making her very malleable to my evil ways.
3.) Because the Servant is now up to her ass in alligators and must devote approximately 18 hours daily for the next 10 days to work, I am at liberty to watch Dora repetitively, as well as consume as much ice cream as I want, as it silences my otherwise constant whining.
4.) I get to attend a Sleep Study, during which people will be focused solely upon me and my stellar ability to sustain myself for weeks at a time upon several three minute long cat naps. The Servant is totally geeked about this; she loves hospitals. (hahahaha)
I know, you are stunned by my brilliance. Please send $10 (cash only) to me, and I'll mail you a personalized script for your Personal Empowerment Stunt.
Ciao,
Little A
(That's "Queen Little A" to you servants out there)
