Sandman Schmandman…

Dear Mama,

Well.  Let me just come out and say it.  Stop sticking crap on my hot baby bod.  It really displeases me.   And let me remind you, I don’t cry.  When my sisters plaster me with stickers, scream in my face (lovingly), you forget to feed me, I have to do tummy time… I am very understanding of all these things.  My extra chromosome really seems to have you all in a tizzy so I figure I’ll cut you a break on some stuff.  

But… I hope it was noticeable to you that I cried my head off while you put that weird gunk all over my head and made me look like a living computer chip.  And that thing you call a cannula, that goes in my nose???  WTF, mom?

Trying to be cool with it all. You like my hot baby bod?

Come on now, lady. Let’s hurry it up.

More stuff on my head?! WAAAH.

Not cool, mom.

At least you came through on the milk.

Ok, so maybe I’m being a little dramatic.  After I filled up on milk, I did fall asleep, after all.  I hope you get whatever so-called  “information” you’re looking for during this sleep study.  I get it, kids with Down Syndrome often have sleep apnea, I snore and sputter a lot in my sleep, you’re worried I’m not oxygenating my brain, don’t want that to affect me in the future, riiiiight.  It’s cool, I get it.  But… I take secret pleasure from knowing that you’re sleeping in a super uncomfortable pull out couch next to me.  It is punishment for sticking all that stuff on my bod.  Love you, mama.

Your son,

LP