My Dearest friends,
Please forgive the lull in my letters. The
days have been blurring together, but when I look back upon it, I can
see that much has happened since the last time we corresponded. At the
half year anniversary of my birth The Giants started to serve me "solid"
food. It must be severely overcooked because it's more of a puree than
anything that I'd normally classify as "food". For the most part it has
been pleasant, even though The Giants try to try to feed me like I'm an
invalid. I try to explain that I'm more than capable of feeding myself,
but they just smile and don't seem to understand. Rather than getting
angry, I just look at it as an opportunity to have a full body oatmeal
scrub. It's like a day at the spa.
I've also mastered the art of sitting up. Occasionally, the floor
conspires against me and comes rushing up, but The Giants have usually
placed a pillow where the floor means to strike me. At night The Giants
place me in a barred cell. I had just conquered reaching for the top bar
and I figured that in a short time I would be able to lower myself to
the floor using several receiving blankets tied together. Then a
setback: the giants lowered the level of my cell so that the bars reach
almost to the heavens and my soother makes for a poor grappling hook.
My continuing efforts to communicate with The Giants have garnered
mixed results. They have deduced that when I say "Da da da!" I am
generally happy. When I make sounds that start with an N sound, I am
generally unhappy and most likely, embarrassingly, soiled myself. They
have not yet figured out what the meaning of "ba ba ba!" is yet, much to
my disappointment.
Bath time has improved since The Giants have provided me something
with which to keep my hands busy. Before, all I could do is stare at the
cold, white walls whilst I was unceremoniously scrubbed of all the
food that I had carefully stored behind my ears for later consumption.
Now I have a bright plastic cup with a whirligig attached inside of it. I
have not inferred the original purpose, but I'm sure that it's a tool
related to processing copper ore.
The Giants keep on discussing something called "teething" and that
it's happening right now. There is a lot of crying and moodiness in the
house right now. So much so that I can hardly compose anything on my
music table. They are starting to damage my calm. I try to drown out The
Giants' cries by chewing on something. Ideally rubber-based so that the
squeaks block them out.
The hour is late so I must say adieu. I miss you all.
Yours dearly,
Alice
