I Am Most Seriously Displeased. Where Did Grandma Go?

Vassals and serfs,

The situation has become such that I felt it incumbent to take pen to paper once more.  I have now completed the first month of life, and things have taken a turn for the worse in recent weeks.  I am once again left alone with my bumbling parents after a week and a half of bliss in the company of the worthiest of dames, my beloved Grandma McDonald.

Not only did she change my diaper much more quickly and efficiently than said bumblers, but she also waited on my pathetic mother hand and foot, keeping her hydrated, well-fed, and generally spoiled.  I dined well while she was here--my meals bore the glorious tastes of homemade soups, savory pot pies, sizzling steaks, and authentically English hot cross buns.  In depressing contrast, today all I got was milk flavored by a measly lunch of toast, yogurt, and three pita chips (my mother would try to blame this drab fare on the fact that I was screaming my head off and would not allow her to put me down--utterly irrelevant, I say).  Sigh!  My prospects look rather bleak in this regard.

Alas!  Gone are the late nights and early mornings spent in the company of my beloved Grandmother, when she would take me out of the flaccid arms of my inert mother or off the sprawled, lifeless form of my snoring father.  It was she who kept a clear head when I decided to have a minor fit of acid reflux (that may or nor may not have looked a little like a seizure--details, details!) that eventuated in a trip to the emergency room and rendered my mother hysterical (I made a point of peeing and puking all over the hospital bed, just to show my true feelings on the matter).  It was Grandma McDonald who recognized my diaper rash for what it was--again, my parents were clueless.  

Without Grandma, I'm sure I would have been poisoned a dozen times over by an unsanitized breast-pump and bottles; the dishes would have piled up, the dust bunnies multiplied and replenished, and the bathroom molded over.  She bought groceries, washed my laundry, and showered me with gifts (just wait and see what I'll be for Halloween!).

The day she left I nearly lost my cool.  I thought: "You're actually leaving me alone with these two?!"  I have since shown my general displeasure by exhibiting all signs of full-blown colic. I scream inconsolably unless I am sleeping, eating, or being walked all around the neighborhood by Dad at midnight (hehe--in the rain, no less!).  Take that, Mom and Dad, and bring me back my Grandma.

With condescension,
Jack the Terrible