Trust Me, I Want to be Asleep Too
By: Matt Fotis
Tags: Babies, Comedy, Humor, Parenting

Trust Me, I Want to be Asleep Too

Mixed emotions. (Via Pixabay)

Mom, Dad. I’m sensing some hostility this morning. And I’m guessing from your vinegary attitude that you’re expecting some sort of apology from me. Well, if anything, you are the ones who should be apologizing to me.

You seem to think that you are the only ones inconvenienced by me waking up every forty-five minutes. You think I like it? You think I’m just getting up for no reason? Okay, I’ll give you that I got up at 3:45 a little bit out of spite. I’ll give you that one. But the other times were totally legit. I was hungry. My blanket fell out of the crib. My bed was soaked in urine. Cuddly the Bear, you guys, Cuddly. The. Bear. I didn’t want to defile him. It’s humiliating enough to be lying in a pile of your own disgust, powerless against the forces of nature. Rendered little more than a lump of shame. I don’t need my best friend to have to suffer the same fate. Imagine if Diane or John were forced to sit idly by as your urine slowly soaked into their soft fur. How could either of us ever forget that? I don’t think you’d like that very much. Well, maybe John; as long as we’re putting it all out on the table, I’m just gonna side with Mom here and say that the guy kind of creeps me out.

Oh, and did I mention that around two o’clock, I felt a rumbling in my mouth? At first, I think it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it is again. And again. And again. And this shit is intense, you guys. Sorry, I picked up that word last night. I hope I’m using it correctly. Look, I’m sorry if it’s a little terrifying when you’re lying in the dark (covered in your own humiliation) and some strange pointy thing is trying to break out of your body. Maybe Dad shouldn’t have let me watch Black Swan my first week home from the hospital because he wanted to see Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis kiss. I don’t know what’s trying to come out of my mouth. Sorry for being afraid.

And you know what, even though you look like hell this morning and father’s breath might have taken a few years off my life, sometimes I just miss you and want to see your face. But I guess that makes me a bad child.

It also sounded like you and Dad were attacking each other last night in some sort of weird ritual. And frankly, the noises, the smells…let’s just say, I don’t think I’m the only one in the neighborhood who had trouble staying asleep.

Anyway, now that the sun has risen and we’re both on a bit of a short fuse, I figured I’d give you my side of the story. I’d be happy to make you some coffee if you’d return the favor and pour me a tall glass of milk…the same milk I might add that you refused to bring me at 1:00, 1:24, 2:05, 2:37, 2:59, 3:21, 3:45 — even though that was mostly spite I still could have used some milk — 4:14, 4:51, 5:20 and 5:49. I know the “books” all tell you not to give me milk since you’ve already “broken” me, but really, would it have killed you to bring me some milk? I really think you should be taking a look at yourselves this morning instead of shooting your angry blame eyes this way.

Cuddly the Bear, you guys, Cuddly the Bear! What has he ever done to you besides give unconditional love? (Via Pixabay)

Can I also point out that maybe changing my sheets right away would have helped? I don’t want to belabor the point, and I don’t want to speak for you and father, but I generally don’t enjoy sleeping in my feces. I get that you thought simply placing me on the other side of the bed was quite the clever solution, but shockingly I was still sleeping in my feces. Look, I’m not saying that Aiden’s mom would have changed my sheets and given me a little sip straight from the tap. And I promised not to mention that Grandma lets me stay up and watch Golden Girls with her when we’re both feeling restless, but you know, she probably would have changed everything the first time — not comparing, just saying.

Look, let’s just put this whole episode behind us. I promise not to hold a grudge for you starving me and making me sleep in my own filth, and you’ll promise to bring me some milk and oatmeal with a smile. Maybe a cookie to smooth things over. Deal?

Sincerely,

Your loving and adoring child