I’ve got a bed. Finally, my family has realized my maturity enough to get rid of my old crib and replace it with something of better quality. Two-year-olds deserve better treatment than this. I’m hoping this means more benefits will be given to me, such as an actual cup! So, I spilled once. That’s because I was distracted by calculating the speed of a fly as it flew around the kitchen. That doesn’t mean I have to be confined to a sippy-cup all my life! And why would Dad get more dessert than I do? It’s ridiculously unfair. Don’t I need sugar to stay alive? Honestly, some people just can’t comprehend these things. At least I get a bigger bed. It’ll provide help in my ongoing quest to prove my maturity and ability to adults. Sometimes I think since they’re taller, they believe they have all the smarts.

I just walked over to see Dad, who’s setting up my bed. That’s probably because they figured I couldn’t be bothered to do it myself, and that’s entirely true. I don’t have the kind of time other people might to build beds. That’s so below my level. Instead, my job is to make sure our cookies have the proper taste needed to satisfy two-year-old bodies. I would never want Mom to miss the chance to make more cookies, this time with a more sutable amount of chocolate chips, at least double the amount. But right now, Dad seems to be puzzled by all the wood around here. He’s looking at the instructions, trying to figure the bed out. Sometimes I think instructions are there only for the most dull-headed. It’s obvious that this plank here should go at the top! I don’t think Dad has any idea what he’s doing; he just put it at the bottom! It takes someone like me to complete such an incredible task. Well, I suppose others can’t always be perfect. Of course, I am. Spilling my drink doesn’t count. I should still be allowed to have a real cup.

When Dad finishes the bed, I’ll finally be able to escape from its terrible clutches on my own. My old crib was too much like a prison with its tall confining bars, I could never figure out what I had ever done wrong to be resigned to the nap-time sentence every day. Now I’ll be at freedom to escape whenever I like! As long as they don’t shut the door, that is. I’m still not quite tall enough to open it. But after a small conference with myself and a few calcuations, an answer to that problem will certainly be discovered. For now, I shall rejoice in my new bed.