Mommy and Daddy took me to one of their adult parties tonight. This consisted of a bunch of couples drinking wine while eating cheese and salads and pastas and desserts. They were laughing and playing games and making conversation.
Oh yeah, there were other children there. But we were, for the most part, cast to the side in our carseats and playpens.
Well, little do our parents know that when infants are in direct contact with other infants, we can communicate. You might think we're crying or cawing, but it's actually conversation.
We party too.
For example, it wasn't gas we were having. It was a farting contest, and I took home the championship.
And then, a burping contest (which had a contested ending).
We all laughed when my Daddy stood up and his buttcrack was showing. Then the other kids told me that happens to their Daddies too. So at least I know my Daddy isn't alone in his fashion incompetence.
I learned that although I'm proud to be able to get my poop up behind my ear, that it's also possible to get poop inside your ear. Someone here actually did that. I've got something to aim for.
We all love Mylocin. In fact, after a while, it started to sound like a Mylocin Anonymous meeting.
All in all, it was enlightening.
But here's the most most enlightening thing: we all agreed that our parents think they know us, but they really don't. They have an inkling, but there's much more they don't know than what they do.
But they're trying their best.
And there's nothing more we could ask for.
Although it would be nice if our Daddies picked up their pants every once in awhile.
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