What Your Baby Would Tell You If He Could Talk

[marval]

I have my blankie, you have your caffeine. Enough said.

Don't be jealous, but I think I'm in love with my teddy bear.

I know where the remote control is, but it'll cost you.

To you, it's just an empty egg carton; to me it's PlayStation 2.

Actually, I don't mind sitting in a bathtub that I've peed in.

Bang a screwdriver slowly and steadily into your gums. That's
what teething feels like.

There's no point in teaching me to say "mama" or "dada." My first word is going to be "hat."

I've told you five times what a cow says. If you can't remember,
I'm not telling you again.

There is no question that I can cry longer than you can listen.

I'm not just wildly throwing my food. I'm exploring the laws
of gravity, estimating mass, and testing wind velocity.

If you wanted a good sleeper, you should have got a cat.

Who that baby in the mirror you keep asking me about?

If my bottom is so cute, why is someone always trying to
cover it up?

Who are you two to tell me how important it is to sleep alone?

What you secretly believe is true: I am much smarter than
other babies.