|My name is Evelyn Mae. I am a grandbaby to whom all this great advice is directed. I have limitations because I'm, like, way short. But I see stuff. You guys need to chill and stare deeply into this. Bring your A-Game or call in sick.|
one I am in charge here. If you ever forget that, try to go for a midnight taco run and then remember that it's a felony to leave a sleeping, teeny weeny, perfect, baby in a crib. Yea. I know. It's harsh, but I am kinda going to call all the shots from now on. Well, not like forever, but for a long long unspeakably long time. It will work out great for all of us so long as you remember that one thing. I could go on, ad nauseum, about what all this entails, how many compromises you will have to make, the blood, the sweat... the tears.... but: Life is short, I know you don't want to actually have to hear me tell you these things.
two If you feed me three, maybe four, pounds of fresh organic tomatoes when I am on a seriously bad-ass road trip, you will have to help me clean up. Dude. I am a baby. You cannot plead ignorance and you cannot feed my weakness for vegetables. Seriously. You are fifty and I am not yet two. You do the math, think about the acid in tomatoes and give my mom a call. She was not a happy navigator.
three I know that you have to have some fingerprints on my spirit before all is said and done. This is what you grown-ups do as evolved mammals. I'm good with that. You need to own it. Engage. Teach me to sit up straight, make eye contact, use my manners, dumptster dive, pass algebra, read a book, feed the homeless and manage. Expect something of me. Cope. Help me cope. It's going to take every single one of you. Yea. Even you. You didn't even know that you mattered, but it's nutty what matters to a baby. I count on you to think happy thoughts and keep your shit together. (I am allowed to talk like that on Momo's Porch of Immunity. She said so. The grown-ups can't hear it.)
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