Daddy's Log 5.1.12
You would think Mickey Mouse was Hezekiah Walker or something considering the way that this child jumps, convulses and shouts at the screen whenever The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse comes on. Because she only knows about fifty words, everything she says sounds like she's speaking in tongues anyway. What happened to the kid that I could just prop up on the couch with a Boppy and leave a flashlight pointed at the ceiling to entertain? Someone is plotting on me.
You could say I'm going crazy. 664 continuous days of 4-6 hours of sleep each night while tending to a 2 foot tall tyrannical dictator each day would drive someone insane. Or maybe that's just what they want you to think. It's easier to say I'm nuts than to admit the truth: There is something supernatural at play. It seems like each day she grows stronger while I grow weaker. Her powers of influence eclipse my own and whereas I once bent others to my will through my gift of debate and logical persuasion, she can move mountains and make men do her bidding with a simple wail--an endless, shrieking, forceful and thunderous wail.The devil's hands have truly been busy.
I have remained the same height for over ten years, yet in just a year's time her size has nearly doubled. She calls my peek-a-boo ruse and raises me one "I'll run away from you and hide in the store. Now, 'where's baby?'" She's been here before. She lords over her toys. I find scores of Elmos following me with their eyes. Toys peer at me through half closed closet doors, and she taunts me while I'm in the bath by standing, staring and grasping an iPhone as if to say, "This could be a toaster. You've been warned."
Message received.
A civil war looms on the horizon. I can delay it maybe another 12-13 years, but something tells me that when this child turns 16, no one in this house will be safe.
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