To What Miserable Wretches Have I Been Born?

Q: How do you breed contempt?
A: Have a baby.

 Hey. It’s me. Your baby. Let me say, first off, that I love you. I do. You’re a great parent. You do a lot of things right. I know how devoted you are to me and how invested you are in hitting this whole parenting thing out of the playground. Okay. Now that I’ve given you the validation I know you need, let’s get a few things clear . . .

I’m not as innocent as you think I am. You don’t realize it because you’re blinded by my sweet good looks, but I am aware of way more than I can convey. I feel more than I can express. I have more going on in my soft, little baby brain than you could possibly imagine. Until now. The book you’re holding finally reveals the complexities and nuances of my life so far. From my point of view.

Unapologetic.

Unplugged.

Unswaddled.

Be warned . . . it’s not always adorable.