Dear Prince-Baby George,
My name is Nolan. I’m 11 months old and look up to you for obvious reasons (your accent). I wish I could say your hair, but get real. Have you seen my hair? Anyway I live “across the pond,” which is far away. If I lived closer, like across the bathtub, I would swim to you because I take swimming lessons and because you probably need a hug right now. I heard the shocking and terrible news that your parents are replacing you with another baby. We’ve all heard the news, George.
Grown-ups call this “having a sibling” but don’t be fooled by that fancy language. They ordered a newer model of baby. A Baby 2.0. And where does that leave you? On the royal curbside, George.
Remember that you’re still the future king (Although, are you really? Please review the following photo and ask yourself who is wearing the crown. It’s me. Nolan).
Let’s assume you’re really the future King. Your little brother or sister won’t care about that because babies have no respect for power at all. They don’t even watch Game of Thrones.
And babies are needy, George. Needy! Even newer model babies, who you would think could be programmed to care for themselves at this point. Darwin should have talked to Steve Jobs, all I’m sayin’.
Me, I’ve already told my parents that under no circumstances will I be open to having another baby living in our house. They always respect my wishes, which is why I am allowed to eat a sweet syrup from an eyedropper every morning (*Vitamin D*). It’s like breakfast in bed.
Listen George, I can help you. It’s not too late. The baby isn’t here yet so your parents can still change their minds about allowing this intruder into your family. It’s your job to remind them just how very off-putting babies can be. That’s your job, the way it’s your parents job to make England feel happy and to always look nice even if your mom is very nauseous from the intruder.
Here are my tips:
- Pretend your legs are pieces of yarn. Yarn cannot stand up and neither can you.
- If you get tired of being yarn become a steel rod. Pretend the steel rod is in your back every time someone tries to get you into a car seat. Steal rods DO NOT BEND under any circumstance. DO NOT BEND is your new mantra.
- Become colicky. I don’t care that you’re too old for that. Desperate times, George.
- Eat more carrots than you can reasonably handle. Feel out your limit, approach your limit, then press past your limit. Expel the carrots aggressively through any exit you prefer. Do this a few times a week with different vegetables.
- Hide an alarm clock in your crib and set it to go off every 30 minutes. This alarm will remind you to wake up your parents by whatever means necessary. Sure you won’t get a good night’s sleep either, but you have to dig deep. Crying is fine, but banging your fists on the side of the crib is an unorthodox but effective method. Don’t hurt yourself in this process, your parents are already hurting you by upgrading to Baby 2.0.
- Try not to be cute. This will be difficult because you have a naturally appealing look. I’m not coming on to you, I’m just stating the facts. You can play down your looks by smearing foods on your face and refusing to smile, even when something awesome happens like you see a farm animal.
- Scream at a pitch only dogs can hear whenever you see another baby. Hold the scream for a count of 50 Mississippis. Then vomit. Repeat every time you see a baby, even one on tv.
Good luck George.
Your brother in diapers, Nolan