Where is my real mommy?

Daddy showed up with this thin white lady a few weeks ago and it doesn’t look like she’s leaving soon. She’s alright but keeps making us wear leather coats which is like—I’m a baby, can I get some more breathable fabrics up in here?

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For some reason, she really hates the letter Z, which is annoying, because I just learned how to say “zebras.” I hope these jackets aren’t made out of zebras.

New mommy keeps calling us her “instant family.” Is that a compliment? Who is David Foster and how exactly does he “continue to undermine the sanctity of marriage?”

I mean, I dunno.

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Why does everyone ask if new mommy used to be our nanny?

My brother Bobby loves our new mommy, but I think that’s just because he used to see her at the pediatrician’s office all the time. Can somebody tell all the restaurants that my new mommy actually is old enough to drink that special adult juice? She gets really mad when people tell her she can’t.

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My new mommy makes us bring a big fan everywhere we go. I guess thats why I have to wear this jacket. And maybe that’s why daddy chained me to this stroller.

I can’t wait until I’m old enough to tell daddy and new mommy that wealth and the allure of youth aren’t the secrets to happiness. Until then, I guess this is it. This is my life. This is me.


Gif via Bobby Finger.