As I’ve said before, I sometimes wonder how Dar’s memoir will someday read. You know, let’s say he turns out like Carly Fleischmann and can actually explain himself someday. So I picture his eventual autobiography…

Thanksgiving 2016

Mommy and Daddy have been acting weird all month, they keep saying “Don Aldtrump” or something. Whatever it is, they should get over it.

What are all these people doing in our house? And why is our dining room table stretched out with a cloth on it and all these extra plates and glasses? They’ve got out a bunch of extra chairs…but none for me? Well, I never! And by “I never” I mean I never want to sit there anyway, so good riddance!

They’re trying to feed me…what is this, some kind of chicken? And gold-colored playdoh? Cheyeah right. Oh all right, I’ll have some beans, but only if Daddy spoon-feeds them to me. It’s not like he has anything else to do while ten guests are here. Oh, he gave up? Well then, I’ll be sticking to my teddy grahams and goldfish crackers, thank you very much. Why is everyone saying “thank you,” anyway? You’re welcome already!

First week of December 2016

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We had a good time at the merry-go-round. My brother is still too scared to get on the horses! He just sits there in the lower buckets. I was doing horses since way before his current age. I love watching the blur go by. These days Dad straps me in and even lets me sit on a horse without holding me. Is that really a good idea?

God, I love hiding things under couches. Hiding all of my brother’s favorite toys and stuffed animals under a couch or a bed, whichever will be the last one they check. Ecstacy!

Not sure why we’re not going to the beach. Can’t we watch this pounding rain while we’re there?


Birthday party at Pump it Up. Hey, how about a full meltdown in the lobby, perfect! Mommy, here’s a few more grey hairs for you! I love watching you apologize to all the employees of a place.

Now that the room has had its decibel levels tested, I can go into the bouncy castles. Which I always love. Except today I don’t feel like it. So I’ll just scream every time Daddy tries to put me on one. Nice.

Group picture with all the other kids. They all smile. And I don’t have to! So nice not to use those extra muscles, I vastly prefer keeping my face in the “huh?” position. I hover near the cupcakes just to stress out Dad. I reach for them, he bats my hand away. I wouldn’t lick them, or would I? He’ll never know!

Also thanks to my condition I don’t have to sing Happy Birthday or even be nice to anyone. Sweet!

Second week of December 2016

Daddy is putting up a Christmas tree. I see he learned something from last year, when I grabbed all the ornaments on the tree’s lower half and scared the bejeebus out of Mommy. Yep, all the glass balls are at the top, all right. Our tree is top-heavier than Sofia Vergara. Not like I know what that means, but whatever. And now for the piece de resistance (I DO know what resistance means): I’m not going to grab any ornaments at all this year! Joke’s on them.

Now Daddy’s putting lights outside. What’s the point of that if we can’t see them in here? Brother is helping him so that’s good, I don’t have to deal with either Daddy or brother right now. I can run around the house and “tee-tee-tee” in peace. Yay!

The lights outside look dumb.

Now Daddy’s clearing away the fireplace mantle. He’s hiding framed pictures of me? Did I do something wrong? Oh, who are all these strangers, and why are they wishing us a Merry Christmas? Don’t they know they’re supposed to say Happy Holidays?

Third week of December 2016

Hitting myself in frustration again. I don’t like to work to talk. I just want them to read my mind, is that so difficult? It’s raining and raining but I ain’t complaining. In fact, I want to play outside, but Daddy keeps saying “Not available.” What is that, some super-drug, notavalabel? Ask your doctor if you start to see side effects?

Parents sure have been using the central heat a lot. That’s okay, I go to the living-room vent and let the heat move my pom-pom. Oh yeah, baby.

Time to grab Daddy’s hand and take him to the couch. Okay, now I can roll up his sleeve and throw my face into his forearm. Oh, yeah, now we’re talking. Why doesn’t he tickle me? Oh right, I forgot to say it. “Tuh-kuh!” There’s the tickle. What, only ten seconds? Doesn’t he have an endless supply of tickles?

Daddy and Mommy keep playing the “who’s this?” game where they point at themselves. I keep saying “da da” when Mommy points at herself. Or vice-versa. I still get “yes” and “no” wrong in the easiest possible situations. The truth is, I know the answers, but it’s more fun to watch Mommy and Daddy boil over with frustration. Internet trolls have taught me much.

A few more days of school, then home with Daddy for a week, woo hoo! Should be plenty of time for freakouts and meltdowns.

They say we’re going somewhere for Christmas. Well in that case, I know what I’m doing. I’m going to act like I notice none of it. But really, deep down inside, I’m taking notes for later. Like Peter Scolari said at the beginning of “Bosom Buddies,” “this whole experience is going to make a great book.”


Things I love: Erica (aide at school), swings, dirt, dolls, taking off my shoes, unexpectedly throwing things from the back seat of the car to the front, gummi bears

Things I hate: brushing my teeth, getting my hair washed, listening to a book for more than a minute, most healthy food, blogging (leaving it to Daddy from now on!)