I'm here, hear me ROAR!
Oh wait, that's not the right picture.
Oh yes, here it is. . .Hear me roar!!! I like to be heard on a regular basis. That's right, I run this joint. I like things my way or the highway. Sorry Mom and Dad, but crying is the only way I can seem to get things done.
I play it cool sometimes while I'm basking in the sun. I should hold back some on the vitamin D. It appears that I'm already starting to get wrinkly and a receding hairline. It works for my image though, as I plot each day of how much of my mom's time I can steal.
I have spit-up issues. I don't' like to discuss it. It's personal but the Zantac is working. Unfortunately, it was the cause of why my mom does not have a picture of me in my baby blessing outfit. (I was stunningly handsome by-the-way.) She also was so worried about feeding company instead of ME, sheesh woman, she also forgot to charge the batteries to her camera making her look bucktooth. I'm already embarrassed by my mother. All that cuddling with grandparents, aunts, and uncles I was exhausted. I didn't feel like posing for any pictures (obviously my dad didn't either).
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