I am learning to amuse myself

Dear Readers:

Silas Hickox, here. I have taken some time away from the dispatches to try to understand this new situation I find myself in. For as long as I can remember, I had everything mastered. I remember not having to breathe, or eat, or poop. All I used to do was suck on various parts of my body, occasionally get the hiccups, and turn towards the light. Now I have lots of new distractions, and several things that test my patience. If only I could get mama to start eating, breathing, and pooping for me again. In the meantime, I amuse myself by practicing variations on those basic themes. For instance, I learned how to shoot my poo across the room. Sometimes dad is so stupid. He actually took my diaper off the other day. Well, I don't have to tell you that I saw my opening and I took it! I pooped AT LEAST 3 feet. Then, as an encore, I peed on dad, and puked on a clean shirt. It was pretty fun. As long as I have to poop for myself, I may as well go for distance. I'm pretty sure I can beat my record next time.

I went to the doctor last week to be weighed. He told mama and dad that I gained 23 ounces in one week. Is that a lot? I have noticed a bit of a spare tire forming around my mid-section. Maybe I'll have to lay off the boob a little. Either that or join the gym.

Anyway, here is the photojournal of my last few days, and the sorts of things that I have been practicing. Here, dad and I just woke up one morning. He does this "head butt" thing that mama thinks is funny.

Personally, I think dad is brain damaged.

Grandmom usually takes me first thing in the morning, when mama and dad are still groggy. Okay, so I'm a little groggy myself, sometimes.

Then mama feeds me. I have learned that it is polite to say "thank you" with a hug.

Most of the rest of the morning, we hang out and mama talks to me in a funny voice. She even talks to people on the phone in that voice too. I guess she and dad are good together. Apparently even brain-damaged people can fall in love and get married. I hope the brain damage isn't hereditary.

I have been trying to perfect my character acting. Here I am as Napoleon. I don't know who he was, but apparently he was short and cute and put his hand in his shirt a lot.

This is me as the baby that swallowed a bowling ball.

I am so beautiful. You'll have to talk to my agent if you're going to take any more photos of me.

No fair! You caught me sleeping! Don't you think I'm hiding those 23 ounces very well?

Dad and I were having a serious talk about why his chest is so much less interesting and less useful than mama's. I still don't understand, but I'm pretty hungry, guys. Guys?

I hate everybody.