Christmas Songs

Hi everyone! I know, you think I forgot about you, my loyal audience, but I’ve been super busy taking care of the parents. You wouldn’t believe how much trouble they can get into, but I can’t go into that right now, because I have something really important to tell you.

Did you know they play Christmas music on the radio? I thought they might, and so I’ve been looking for it since March, but didn’t have much luck tracking it down. Then, on November 1st, I finally found it. A station playing Christmas music. It was great. I played it all day long. And the next day. And they just kept playing Christmas songs. All day long, every day.

And guess what?!? Then I found another station that plays Christmas music all day long. So now when I get tired of one station I can just switch to the other. It is so wonderful that I turn it up as loud as I can so I can hear it anywhere in the house. I love Christmas!

Game Hints

Mommy and Daddy gave me a game system in my room. It only has a few buttons, and the only display is a number and a few lights. They’re too cheap to get me a really good game system, but I make due with what I have.

The point of this game is to make the number go a high as possible. Mom and Daddy can only get a score of sixty-eight, sometimes seventy. I can do much better. Obviously.

What I figured out is that if you push the button on the right until the light next to “High” stays on, you can get a much higher score. But I bet most you out there knew that. No, I’m here to tell you how to truly get the highest possible score.

I discovered and honed this exploit myself, so if you use it in a video, please leave a link back to this explanation. The key is to think outside the box, literally. The buttons on the game only get you so far. I’ve tried offering the game toys and books, but those don’t seem to have a significant impact on the score. What does work, however, is to take your blanket and put it over and around the game.

You might be tempted to look at the number from time to time, but for the best possible score, leave the blanket in place and don’t move it. If the air starts to smell funny, that means it’s working. The only slight issue with this exploit is that if Daddy finds out he’ll take away your game. My parents get so petty when I beat their score.

Imaginary Friends

I have often thought that the parents have no imagination, but I now find that to be simply untrue. Instead, they have a rather curious form of imagination which I feel I must disclose for the benefit of the many others of you out there struggling to raise parents.

This particular bout of imagination has recently struck the parents, presumably because of their having spent far too much time indoors over the recent months. In fact, it is the doors themselves which seem to trigger this particular delusion. I will describe it for you, although I confess that even I would have a hard time believing such a thing had I not observed it with my own eyes on multiple occasions.

As you know, the snow is rather delightful this time of year, and I, being the lover of nature that I am, try to take advantage of this wonder as often as I can, though it is troublesome because the parents insist of placing my coat up high where I cannot reach it, forcing me to ask for their assistance, but I’m getting off the subject.

Anytime I open the door to go outside, one of the parents will invariably yell, “Close the door Miranda, you’re letting all the heet out!” At first I thought maybe there were some small creatures named heets that I have somehow missed, but after close analysis of the doorway, I have determined that no small creature is trying to escape. It was only then that I realized what wonderful imaginations the parents have. I can understand their need for such a mental crutch, as being a parent seems very unfulfilling.

In respect to their delusion, I close the door. After all, I wouldn’t want to let the “heet” get out. The parents would get so lonely.

Spicy Snow

It’s that most wonderful time of the year again, and snow is once again falling from the sky, which, as you all know, means it’s time for me to help Daddy shovel the driveway. I have really refined my methods this year, to the point where, honestly, Daddy would be lost without me. In fact, I have to stay very close to him and make sure I shovel right where he is trying to shovel, for his protection and education.

My most recent shoveling expedition was highly disappointing. Instead of snow, we had rain, and the driveway was covered with little ice chunks, which aren’t nearly as good for making snowballs. Nevertheless, I helped Daddy scrape them off the driveway. Daddy said we had to clear it because some friends were coming over later and he didn’t want them to slip.

Apparently he shared my disappointment about the lack of snow, as, a few minutes later, he emerged from the garage with a shaker and began depositing big pieces of snow all over the steepest parts of the driveway and on the sidewalk. It was very loud and hard snow, but I guess that’s probably just because he had kept it in the garage for so long.

I should mention, at this point, that not only in snow great for making snowballs to throw at Daddy, but it is also a delicious and healthy snack, and I try to eat as much of it as I can when it’s in season. It has a great crisp flavor that no other form of precipitation can match.

So, naturally, I had to try out some of Daddy’s garage snow. For those of you who may be tempted to try it yourself, do not eat garage snow. I think keeping it in containers makes it go bad. Stick to the fresh snow. It’s not as spicy.

The Parent Trap

Many of you out there ask how it is that I manage to deal with raising such terrible parents. I have found that the key to making it bearable is to treat the parents as a source of entertainment. The parents are rather simple-minded folks, and it is a source of great amusement to me to watch their puny minds contend with my great intellect.

My latest game is one that really gets them wound up. “Mommy, I want to take a nap,” I say.

“Do you really want a nap?” she asks me.

“Yes. I’m really sleepy.” We head upstairs towards my room. “I don’t want to take a nap, Mommy.”

“But you just said you did.”

“No, I don’t want a nap. I want to go downstairs.”

“Why don’t you try taking a nap?”

“No, I want to go downstairs.” Mommy starts to go back downstairs. “I want to take a nap!”

Eventually I decide to move to the next phase. I go to my room and get into bed. I say goodbye to Mommy and snuggle under my covers.

I know she waits outside my room, so I stay very quiet. Eventually she will decide I’m asleep and go downstairs. I give her a moment, to really increase the comedic value, and then start pounding on my bedroom door. “I need to use the potty.”

She comes back to my room and we use the potty. This time she asks a few extra times if I want a nap. I assure her I do, and she puts me into my bed and eventually goes downstairs.

“Mommy, help my find my monkey!”

We go through the cycle again. “Mommy, I need to poop!”

“Mommy, I’m done with my nap now!”

I know what you’re thinking: “There’s no way anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that more than once.” The parents, however, never seem to catch on.

It doesn’t quite make up for all that the parents put me through, but as I’ve found, it really is the little things that make life enjoyable.

Say What You Mean

I have a question for those of you out there. Do you know if parents can say one thing but mean something else? It wouldn’t seem like something they should be smart enough to do, but I think I’ve seen signs of it.

The other day I was outside with Daddy, and I wanted to draw with chalk. There were lots of leaves on the driveway, so Daddy needed to clean them off so I would have enough room to really express myself. He got out the big broom and started sweeping away the leaves. It looked like fun, so I asked him if I could sweep the leaves. He got a smaller broom out of the garage and I set to work.

“I’m helping,” I told him.

“Yeah, you’re a big help,” he said. And though I know he couldn’t do anything on his own, something about how he said it almost made me think he meant that I wasn’t being helpful.

Should I take his comment as the simple statement of gratitude that it is, or is there something more going on behind the scenes?

Narrow Minded

Hello, loyal and faithful readers. I apologize for my long absence, but the parents have been particularly troublesome lately. I know, I always think they can’t get worse, or at least that I won’t be surprised when they do, and yet…

As you all know, the parents are terribly small minded, and this causes no end of difficulty for me. Obviously I am as understanding and caring as a person can be, but even so it puts a tremendous strain on me. For example, the parents don’t seem to grasp even the most basic of situations.

Is it really that hard to understand that I want the toy and don’t want the toy, equally strongly and at the same time? How can they not comprehend that when I demand to be both indoors and outdoors, it is their job to make that happen, not to ask silly questions like “Which one do you want?”

If any of you out there have experience enlightening parents, please share your secrets. I’m beginning to suspect that mine may be defective.

The Potty

Mommy and Daddy are up to their crazy schemes again. You’ll never guess what they want me to do now, not in a million years. They have this silly bucket full of water called “The Potty” with its own little room. That’s crazy, I know, but it gets worse. They want me (can I say this on the internet?) to pee and poop in it. I don’t know which is more shocking: the concept itself or their audacity for suggesting it.

It’s obvious what their game is. Those lazy parents are trying to get out of their chores. They think if they trick me into joining their little Potty cult then they won’t have to change my diapers anymore.

They have even gone so far as to suggest that my friends already do this, and that they themselves use the Potty quite regularly. As though I would want to be more like them. I allow them to do whatever they want in their time off, but that hardly means I want to join them.

They even say that if I use the Potty then I’ll be a “big girl”. I’m not sure what they are implying, but I fail to see how peeing and pooping in a silly bucket will alter my size in any appreciable manner.

The parents simply can’t understand that the idea does not appeal to a busy person like myself. I don’t have time to stop and use the Potty every time I need to pee or poop. Not that they would understand such things, the lazy adults. Clearly I need to keep them busier.

Snow Removal

I was telling you about snow and the parents’ fundamental misunderstanding of it the other day. You’ll probably find this hard to believe, but it’s even worse than I first let on.

Every time it snows Daddy rushes outside with a shovel. I know what you’re thinking: He’s has to gather up as much of that snow as he can before anyone else takes it. After all, I’ve seen those big tractors running up and down the road carrying it off like they own the place. It would make sense to collect it before those greedy fellows stole it all. Unfortunately, he’s actually doing quite the opposite. I have found him, on multiple occasions, getting rid of the snow! Just when you thought parental behavior could not become any more baffling.

Fortunately, the Grand Parents that I told you about before anticipated this eventuality and provided me with my own shovel to thwart Daddy’s ludicrous endeavor. Now when I see that an area is getting low on snow, I can carry snow from a place with more and redistribute it, maintaining the snowy atmosphere. As always, faithful reader, you can count on me to keep the world in balance.