An Open Letter to Michael's Parents

I appologize for using an interpretor, but I can not yet type. My darn fingers are just now learning to obey simple commands. As a result I will trust that my father is interpreting my comments, cries, and meaningful looks corrently as I can not yet read.

Dear Parents:

Why do you insist on periodically interupting my bottles and beating me on the back? Do they do this when you go out to resturaunts? I haven't seen it anywhere I've gone. Does it sound like something that would aid your digestion?

And who do you know takes 3 naps a day? You can stop periodically putting me in my crib, thinking I'll nap. I will continue to scream. And for the record: rubbing my eyes and being crabby are not expressions of being tired. If I'm tired I'll tell you.

Otherwise, thanks for a great first 6 months. Love the Jumperoo. Toys are cool, but whatever happened to that tissue box I was playing with? The dog is pretty cool too. Food is neat, but why do I get this mushed up stuff in jars? Your food is so much cooler looking.

Keep up the good work.

Love,


Michael

PS. I'm not a baby, I'm just small.