I Am Not An Alien!

When I don't get what I want I've started to complain about it. Don't we all? If I get fed that thing called "ham" again I am really going to get upset. I don't think I like "ham", really. What is it? That may break Dad's heart but he'll get over it. And bacon? Forget about it, that stuff is nasty. Maybe I'm a vegan. Oh wait, I like those hot dogs.

So I voice my opinion and then Mum and Dad look at me like I'm an alien. Just because I am screeching or whining, or arching my back and crying. I mean, look at them in this photo. They think I'm nuts. But I'm not- I just want my peas cooked to the right temperature. I want enough butter on my toast. Sometimes I want to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star instead of Itsy Bitsy Spider. And, I don't want my diaper on too tight, it gives me a wedgie and can get very uncomfortable.

Is that too much to ask? Does that warrant this sort of expression from my parents?