My name is Stella, and if I were in charge of the universe, we would all get to wear pajamas to church and eat marshmallow Peeps for breakfast. The man with the yellow hat in the Curious George books would have a real name, like Gene or Pat or Chris, so he would sound less creepy, and books like the Pinkalicious series would not be so popular that they turned into NYC musicals, because the illustrations give me a headache. If I were the boss, I would make sure my parents posted pictures of me on Facebook that don’t make me look fat. There are a few things I could do without. Nap time, for example. Who needs it? Especially when my mom tries to get me to fall sleep by singing the same off-key rendition of “Baby Beluga” every day. Is she trying to say something about my weight? Anyway, she should really expand her lullaby repertoire. I would also dump all the multi-grain organic baby cereal down the drain. Why does my mom make me eat it? It tastes like soggy cardboard. If I had my way, Aunt Wibby would come babysit me at all those conferences my mom goes to because she lets me stay up late and watch Sponge Bob Square Pants on hotel cable tv.
These are my demands.
But my mom says I can’t have everything all the time, so I’ll take what I can get.