Hello World
Hello World, my name is Riley and I'm a month old.
I have blondish hair and blue eyes and very long fingers and toes. It's possible I may be good at playing the piano, or climbing trees.
I currently have the obligatory acne/rash on my face because my skin is just realising it's no longer in the amniotic swamp and is getting used to air and pollen and fabric and oil glands and dust and life. However this also means my parents haven't taken too many photos of me just yet. It's sweet that they're so vain on my behalf: I could care less.
Sometimes my big sister looms into view. She's very good at waking me up, even when I don't want to, by hollering, "WAKE UP RI-EE" in my face. She can't say "L" very well, but I can't hold that against her since I haven't even worked out that my hand belongs to me. She seems generally ok though. I get lots of kisses and pats from her, though some of them must be extra full of love, because they're quite forceful.
I love my mum. She feeds me. She smells good. Like milk.
I love my dad. He rocks me to sleep and lets me gnaw on his knuckle when mum is too busy to feed me or if I have my grumpy pants on and I don't want to go to sleep. Which apparently is more often than you might want.
I like looking at things. The world seems to be full of things. Window-blobs. Light fitting-blobs. Couch-blobs. Carpet-blobs. People-blobs. Invisible microscopic space alien blobs hovering in mid air that nobody else can see.
I like pooping. I do it with great ceremony and audible fanfare. I like it so much that I usually try to give my parents a 2-for-1 deal at each nappy change.
Time to go and plot how to take over the world. My parents think I'm napping. Ha! I just scheme better with my eyes shut.
I have blondish hair and blue eyes and very long fingers and toes. It's possible I may be good at playing the piano, or climbing trees.
I currently have the obligatory acne/rash on my face because my skin is just realising it's no longer in the amniotic swamp and is getting used to air and pollen and fabric and oil glands and dust and life. However this also means my parents haven't taken too many photos of me just yet. It's sweet that they're so vain on my behalf: I could care less.
Sometimes my big sister looms into view. She's very good at waking me up, even when I don't want to, by hollering, "WAKE UP RI-EE" in my face. She can't say "L" very well, but I can't hold that against her since I haven't even worked out that my hand belongs to me. She seems generally ok though. I get lots of kisses and pats from her, though some of them must be extra full of love, because they're quite forceful.
I love my mum. She feeds me. She smells good. Like milk.
I love my dad. He rocks me to sleep and lets me gnaw on his knuckle when mum is too busy to feed me or if I have my grumpy pants on and I don't want to go to sleep. Which apparently is more often than you might want.
I like looking at things. The world seems to be full of things. Window-blobs. Light fitting-blobs. Couch-blobs. Carpet-blobs. People-blobs. Invisible microscopic space alien blobs hovering in mid air that nobody else can see.
I like pooping. I do it with great ceremony and audible fanfare. I like it so much that I usually try to give my parents a 2-for-1 deal at each nappy change.
Time to go and plot how to take over the world. My parents think I'm napping. Ha! I just scheme better with my eyes shut.