My new favourite person.

As you may know, Mum and Dad's friends Pat and Cass are back in the country. Aunty Cass is fast becoming my new-best-grown-up....and the following correspondence demonstrates why:

Dear Aunty Cass,
How are you this week? I was just wondering if you still wanted to come and play with me this weekend? Mummy and Daddy have been quite beastly to me this week. They cut my nails, made me get out of the bath, made me eat vegetables......Oh the list goes on. I really think I need to spend some time with someone who will take care of me properly.
Love your favourite child at risk,
Walter.

Dear Walter,
Of course I am coming to play this weekend.
I am shocked and appalled by the abusive behaviour that your parents have subjected you to, and so I must make the effort to reinforce to you that not all grown-ups are mean and nasty. I was thinking that on Sunday we might play with loud toys in the bath, whilst farting out all the toxins caused by those nasty vegetables.
I will try to visit on Saturday too, but may need to have a little sleep-in on Saturday morning to prepare myself for the big day on Sunday with you.
I will ring your Mother and make sure that she isn’t doing any scary or horrible things to you this weekend, like getting your haircut or giving you injections. And don’t worry; your disclosure of her and your Daddy’s behaviour is safe with me. I will secretly undermine all their rules by feeding you chocolate cake while you swing around on the clothesline so that you can learn that life with me is heaps of fun, and your parents are boring old farts.
Lotsa big squelchy kisses and love from your Aunty Cass X

Edited by Mummy to say: You are so getting a haircut, boy.....

See, I'm not the only one!

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/60623?utm_source=slate_rss_1

Dear concerned stakeholders,

To Nanna, all the aunties, Unkie Al and anyone else who cares,

I have a new tooth.

Damn, once again I have to think up yet another way to drive Mummy and Daddy mad....

Her Cheating Heart

For quite some time now, I've had a sneaking suspicion that Mummy may be cheating on me. You know little looks at other babies in the supermarket, lingering cuddles with my friends from Mum's group. Now I have proof!

The other day, Mummy bundled me in the car as if we were going to daycare, but instead of going to see the one remaining Manda, Renee, Louise and all my posse at my daycare, we went to hers! We walked into the room that Mummy works in and suddenly she was swamped by babies just a little bit older than me and the kids my age just sort of sat there giving her filthy looks.

This I feel is tantamount to betrayal. I mean how would the dowdy wife in a Jackie Collins 'novel' react when confronted with the jiggly buxom 20 year old competitor? (Actually, I know the answer to this - she would have heaps of plastic surgery then shag the pants off the plastic surgeon.)Never fear, I've been paying Mummy back for her infidelity by waking up every hour three nights in a row .....

Payback is a bitch!

Bringing down the Matriarchy

The International League of Infant Anarchists are proud to present the 2007 season of guerrilla warfare, subtitled, 'Bringing down the Matriarchy - Mother by Mother'. Our research and development arms have been working their nappy clad butts to the tail bone thinking of new ways to drive your grownups (particularly your Mummys) mad.Now I know that several of my friends have been continuing their work in the fields of sleep, mobility/exploration and nutrition. I, on the other hand have been labouring under the guise of 'separation anxiety'.

I have found that the most effective way of wearing Mummy down has been incessant whinging and crying. Mummy stands up, cue the crying. Mummy sits on the floor next to me, cue whinging and trying to climb to the highest point of her body. Mummy leaves the room, cue full blown screams with copious tears and body wracking shudders (my friend Tamika can make herself vomit at this point...something to work on). However, it is imperative to only display this behaviour to Mummy and occasionally Daddy, otherwise the Mum's group people, the clinic sister and the 'Mandas at childcare might actually believe what Mummy is saying and well, that would be just far too much validation for one day, wouldn't it?

I will need to work on tempering this assault with some moments of cuteness... or my days will be numbered.

So what have you been doing to further the cause and fight the good fight?

Thou shall not utter the sacred name of Mummy

For some time now, my dear and darling mother has been mortally ashamed of me. To be more specific, of my language skills.For months I've been waxing lyrical about the virtues of Dad Dad Dad, of Bub Bub Bub and of Nan Nan Nan, but I have steadfast refused to say Mum. Its not that I'm trying to give the poor woman a complex, or to diminish the tender love and care she lavishes on me. It is just the the word 'Mum' is far too special for me to say out loud. Like the Hebrews and their inability to say the name of God....they say Adoni or Yahweh instead.

I cannot utter the sacred name of Mummy.

In response to recent criticism...

Over the last few weeks several of my readers have, in person and via the comment section of the blog, accused me of plagiarism....

Moi? Not really writing this blog? A pox on your houses!

These faithless philistines seem to think that the blog is written by Daddy or Mummy.... O.K seriously, if Daddy was writing there would be a lot more ranting about what is wrong with this world and if Mummy was writing there would be a lot more talk about how gorgeous she is. There is just no way that those parents of mine could come up with the high quality, witty and dare I say acerbic material that I am capable of.

Certainly, I admit to having a little help with spelling, translation and typing.... as I have mentioned before, this is done by my admin staff, otherwise the posts would contain far more references to Dada, Buba and Nanna. But the rest is a product of my own genius.

I promise.

As seen in this Saturday's Canberra Times:

CHANCELLOR (Ebner) Rod and Fiona are thrilled to announce the swift arrival of Walter David born 24.11.2006 at CJJMH.ANNOUNCEMENTS : BIRTH NOTICES16/12/2006

Right...... That kid is going down! How dare he steal my name!

5.15 am

Oh, I do love the smell of tired parents in the morning......

Three days without a virus!

Yep, that is the sum total of the time I have been without some form of lurgie since I started childcare. I have given a good host body to a whole range of colds and gastrointestinal anomalies. Mummy is getting kind of sick of it, which I think is rather hypocritical given that Mummy has facilitated children's diseases all her adult life. (Sorry Amanda, if you're reading this, Mummy said to say that she like, totally understands it's not your fault!)

Now Mummy's watching my nappy carefully and telling me if I do one of those impressive mega poos we won't be able to go to Lachie's house this morning......I must control my bowel, I must control my bowel.

And another thing..... when does daylight savings start? I've woken up at 5am every morning this week.....Not a good way to make a Mummy happy.

A Blanket Apology

To my dear members of The International League of Infant Anarchists,

Comrades, I feel that I must apologise for my disgraceful conduct of late. You look to me as a role model, as a leader in the field of infant anarchy.... and I have let you down.

Certainly there are some areas of guerrilla warfare that I have managed to 'maintain the rage' such as crying whenever the adults are out of my direct line of vision and my extensive research into projectile vomiting, but I feel I am sorely lacking in so many areas.

Apparently, (and Mummy is screaming at me not to type this in fear of activating Murphy's law.... No Mummy! Put down the wooden spoon, Mummy! I'll be a good boy, Mummy!) I slept through the night last night. I'm sorry, I am sooo sorry! I endeavour to never let it happen again.

Retribution

Never fear, members of The International League of Infant Anarchists! I found a way to pay back my parents for the crime of placing me in Day Care. I've had a cold since Thursday, which has given me great mileage on the snot displacement front, and now I have spent the last day perfecting the art of projectile vomiting. Daddy, in particular is proud of the way I can vomit and come up smiling and laughing a moment later (he just wants me to keep being sick so that he can stay home from work with me tomorrow!).