On Behalf of New Baby

Dear Mr. Baby:

There is, as you have noticed, a new baby in the house.  No, that wasn't the result of the disasterous misreading of some kind of packaging, and no, we didn't realize it would be this fucking loud.  It may seem idiotic now (let's have two small humans shitting all over the house so we can't get one other fucking thing done for two years), but it's all part of a brilliant long-term plan.  One in which our lives are a living hell for a bit, but thereafter you tots amuse yourselves by lighting fireworks in small enclosures, or charging batteries with everyday metal objects you have around the house, or duct taping each other to the donkeys, or whatever it is boys are into these days, while mommy locks herself in a closet and has a martini.  Back to the point: You seem to like him, and I have to say that for your deplorable lack of manners with adults, you are quite sweet to New Baby.  He can't talk though, so there are just a few things he might say if he could.  Just New Baby talking here, Mr. Baby.  No embedded passive-aggressive messages from mommy pawned off in a high-pitched baby voice.   

1) When I am crying, everyone can hear me just fine.  So, big brother, you don't need to mimic the crying, or actually start crying even louder, or run around the house screaming ''BABY, SAD.  Baby, sad.  Baby waaa waaa!" (On a related note, it is also unnecessary to announce to the city of Toronto, thirty miles away, PHONE! when the phone rings or BEEP BEEP! when the microwave beeps, because the whole idea, Mr. Baby, of these things making a sound is so that no one else has to.)

2) It's pretty cool that you can identify all of my body parts.  But, like mom keeps trying to tell you, it fucking hurts when someone shows where your eye is by sticking their pointer finger into it.

3) Sometimes, bro, I'm trying to take a nap. Just like you, I make a huge. theatrical, fuck-all deal out of sleeping. But then I actually do get sleepy, and go, as the book says, the fuck to sleep.  Everyone in the house is really, really, really, really happy at this time.  Loud noises are really, really, really bad at this time.  So it's not helpful to choose that particular moment to look up from the quiet drawing activity that you were entranced by, so much that people forgot you were lurking about, and shriek "SZHLA! SZHLA! SZHLA!  I DID IT!!!!!" while machine-gunning crayons all over the room like a psychopathic, AK-47-wielding Elmo. 

4) The people of Fisher Price have determined a speed which, if it is not optimal, is at least a reasonable, for the swing to be swinging.  No improvements, however enthusiastically attempted, can be made upon this.

5) Stop stealing my blanket.  It is soft, but you've never, ever cared about that and are quite obviously just being a huge dick.

6) Thanks for having my back with the snacks, but for now I do not want to eat any pizza, Leggo sandwiches, or dime soup.

7) If you constantly push my soft skull inward, like a squeaky toy, some people are concerned that I will have a permanent dent in my head.

8) I am not a whiteboard.

9) And I'm told that no one wanted to resort to this kind of Grimmsian chicanery, but to pass on to you that: If you microwave tennis balls while mommy is feeding me, a bean stalk will grow out of your ears.   

Sincerely,
New Baby