Captain's Log: Day 64

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! My hard work has at long last paid off. The loot is mine, all mine! After many weeks of vigilant and determined commitment to my task (those diapers aren't going to fill themselves you know?), I have been adequately compensated with this Christmas onesie that is sure to set the fashion world on fire in the coming months. I am a budding fashionista thanks to the handiwork of my first mate.

I must admit that I am very grateful to be surrounded by such loving company this Christmas. Though they tend to fall prey to my schemes all too easily, my first mate and father are quite wonderful and leave me wanting for very little in my relatively short time away from my home country.

PS. A special Christmas praise to my P.I.C, Murphy. He has proven to be a commendable companion without whom this family simply could not function.

PPS. There's talk of another baby who everyone seems to be talking about and has very nearly stolen my spotlight. I must have a chat with this Jesus fellow or at least his mother, Mary to see if this will be a recurring event. Not that I'm wholly unwilling to share some of my spotlight, but a schedule will need to be worked out. He and his mother certainly sound like rather cordial and accommodating people.

Captain's Log: Day 61

I have been driven to exhaustion. Made to work in his workshop in such a state, Santa has really changed the standards this year and given a whole new meaning to child labor. But then again, what's a little work if I can be dressed in this adorable outfit as an elf. Father has proven time and again to be there when I am ready to collapse. Coincidentally, this happens the majority of the day about every day but sometimes a girl just needs to be able to put her feet up. Father agrees with me, and to be quite honest, that is all the reassurance that I need. I have grown quite fond of him in recent weeks. I think I shall keep him.

On another note, regarding the fellow in the back, Sam, he speaks with the most enchanting accent. I am not always sure of what he is saying to me, but I know that I like it. He's very excitable, and I look forward to spending more of the coming months in his company.

Captain's Log: Day 54

Sup? Yea I like this hat. What of it? Sup?

Captain's Log: Day 49

A pattern has emerged in recent times, at first innocently enough that I was able to brush it off as plain oversight, or perhaps some miscommunications, but it has risen to be quite steadfast and consistent to the point at which I can no longer dismiss the significance.

My First Mate thinks me simple-minded. After continued correspondence, she repeatedly replies with a smile, a "nose-boop", or placates me with more food. The latter is a positive result, but I yearn for our deeper connection, conversations on metaphysics, updates on my father's artificial intelligence research, and lessons on The Murphy language that they use so frequently.

So, her lack of proper response seems to indicate she finds me simple. That, or perhaps she is simple-minded herself. I have postulated in either direction, and find the evidence inconclusive as to which the final judgement honors. I'm not sure which prospect concerns me more.

You may find above the moment capturing this initial realization, the recognition of my betrayal. I will begin to investigate proper reconciliation. 

Captain's Log: Guest Author

Hello. Murphy Jordan Robinson (adopted Lalor) here. My parents have yet to spend the time to legally change my name, so a Robinson I remain. 

Times, they are a changing. A new creature has entered our household, and she, to date, seems to be of a similar social class to myself. My parents ply her with treats at quite an astonishing rate, so I am paying due attention to learn from her ways. 

However, I still far surpass her capabilities in the napping department. Perhaps she will observe my natural talents, and apprentice in them. 

Her presence has elicited quite strange behavior in my parents, not the least of which is AWFUL British accents. Has the creature come from abroad? 

For now, I keep watch from a distance, learning what this creature is capable of. I have heard legends of small humans who throw human food to the ground at all hours, and hope to soon learn if she is one of their kind. 

Captain's Log: Day 35

Gather round, gather round. Pay witness to my first official "girls night", for which First Mate has severely under-dressed me. It seems to be an occasion meant to celebrate the lady in blue, but I will, as always, steal the spotlight.

Captains Log: Day 31

Go to Wheaton they said. It will be sunny, warm, and tropical they said. I have been taken for a fool.

 It is remarkable that I was duped so easily into thinking we were escaping the bitter cold of Amherst only to find myself yet again in a barren  tundra known as Wheaton. 

A few soothing words from my father and the blinking lights and songs played by my first mate were all that was needed to sate my suspicions. My resolve to avoid such methods of deception will only grow stronger.

Aside from the weather debacle, I must say that Wheaton has, to this point, turned out to be an altogether success. 

I am plied with all of the food I could ask for, and I have met a number of individuals who shower me with attention.  My current environment has a bizarre looking man dressed in red with  a remarkable sheen of white “face-hair.” 

He is scattered throughout the house, and I feel he must hold a place of great importance in this house. I believe that he will be an ally in my cause, but I must investigate this peculiar man further. 

However, I hope that I do meet him soon, because I have learned they he also has a strong predilection for milk. 

Captains Log: Day 29

A comrade in arms at last! 

Before this photo was taken (On that note: it seems I have acquired a veritable congregation of paparazzi willing to document my every move and action in even my most uncouth moments. This behavior, while odd, is not unwelcome. I have been told I am to be a star so I may as well grow accustomed to this new form of attention),  This friend and I were discussing our various lifestyle habits. 

Surprisingly, she shared many of the same habits as me: eating, sleeping, pooping, peeing, and sleeping. Fortunately, I had the brilliant idea to tell her to act natural prior to my first mate’s intrusion on our conversation. I am unsure yet as to whether or not she has caught on to our act. I hope to continue my conversation with this friend

in the future, but I fear that it could be our last interaction. Both of our fathers have repeatedly claimed we are to be sent to the nunnery. Only time will tell…

A note about the bears in this photo: They are rather solitary creatures. I had heard tales of the ferocity of bears, but this pair has been docile to say the least. They mostly kept to themselves on this day despite my repeated babbling of questions to them. I will try again at a later date to get these cryptic creatures to open up to me. 

Captain's Log: Day 21

To begin with, yes. This is what they have dressed me in.
I am quite sure your reaction equals my own.

The paparazzi were a force today of strength I'm sure the world has yet to match, and I certainly hope it will not reoccur until my delicate eyes and dainty skin have a proper shot at recovery.

There was finery, sparkles, fragrances… I believe that my First Mate and father were even both showered and properly clothed simultaneously, which is a new experience for me. 

Perhaps they shall try that more often now, as it was quite pleasant. First Mate donned a new face, which I shall address shortly. Well, I suppose that's quite enough of an introduction, onto the dreary task of addressing the fruits of my diligent photographers works.

Forgive my expression here, as I was quite disconcerted initially upon being picked up by such a stranger. Well brushed hair, the smell of soap, and proper dressing are sensations I've typically associated with The Murphy, who certainly wouldn't have been able to cater to me so kindly as this. Beyond the initial shock though, First Mate has turned out quite well. Makeup, as they call it, is not quite as evil as I have heard First Mate declare it to be.  

Oh, yes, go on, laugh. No need to respect my beauty sleep.

(Although, upon briefly, and might I say, incredibly surreptitiously, peeking, I did enjoy partaking of such a happy moment. Perhaps it is only by spying upon them that I may witness such joy, as it seems to be reserved for moments of my slumber)

I am the centerpiece. My rightful place of honor has been bestowed as familiars flock. Grandma, and the one they call "Pius" (he has yet to prove himself as such to me) have doted on me a degree which does please.

Now, this is the one they call "Godmother". How she has earned such a title, and the lack of my consultation in such affairs, truly eludes me. All the same, I have been promised years of spoils from her,  and look forward to her attempts to buy my affection. In return, I ask that she never infect me with foreign infections and diseases to which she may be exposed abroad- that should be common courtesy, after all. 

Captain's Log: Day 20

Today, I was introduced to many new people. First Mate sat by tersely, begging guests to wash their hands prior to touching me, and I believe she was widely successful. This is Godfather. He thinks himself quite clever, and has already begun promising restrictions upon my upbringing. The camera appropriately captures us amid a classic argument- at which age I am to enter the convent.

This is my Pops. First Mate gets very wet-eyed when she sees us together. I spy two Hungry Hungry Caterpillars on  his top face, which are quite amusing to watch. 

This is Sam. They also call him Pius. They have many names for him, but none yet seem to capture how willing he his to blame foreign scents on innocent children. I shall create such a name for him. 

This is when dad took me aside for a stern talking to. "Stop making fun of our family" He said. "Stop blaming all the farts on me and The Murphy" I replied.

Simple rules. They struck first, I'm simply reacting. 

Captain's Log: Day 19

Now this ritual seems to be very specific to the local culture. 

The adults converge at a certain hour of the evening, and begin to fill the abyss with liquid of a very certain temperature. 

They hover, cradling, cooing, then begin to douse me in sweet-smelling liquids, which, deceptively, do not taste sweet. After a few immersions, the ceremony has completed, and I am swept into my bear-robe and snuggled in warmth.

First Mate and father are both overly attentive during this procedure, so I will permit it to continue. 

Captain's Log: Day 17

This device appears to be for the primary benefit of my First Mate, rather than my own. On that foundation, am wholly opposed. Do you see her expression of content, while mine remains to the contrary? No, no, this will NOT last.  

The diaper production rate just went up in retaliation. I have recently discovered my own capability to produce a partial mess, wait for it to be properly cleaned, and then re-soil it. My current record is a 4-peat within an hour, but I am recently inspired to best that. 

Captain's Log: Day 15

Do you see what they wear? Do you know what I feel?

Captain's Log: Day 14

They have chosen to introduce me to technology at such a delicate age. This camera does not capture my best angle, and I am loathe to be without the coverage of my blankets. I am exposed, to the elements, to the glare of the screen, and to the interwebs.

My father looks much smaller here. I am not sure quite how he fits into the device. 

Captain’s Log: Day 12

“A smile!” the fools exclaim as if I am a puppet for their amusement. I deigned it prudent at last to grace them with a smile (note: this was of my own accord, I’m an independent woman) so that they may better learn to appease me. I feel it is better to use this smile sparingly and strategically so as to hasten my acquisition of the fineries in life. They seem remarkably susceptible to my schemes. It is as if they think I am not yet capable of plotting such a course….I shall explore this development further in the coming days.

Captain's Log: Day 11

Oh… hello there. Hadn't see you come in. I woke up like this. This is me, beauty incarnate, as some have called me (properly so).

(Why my mother and father have yet to seize this potential, and immediately enroll me in the nation's finest modeling campaigns… opportunity cost. I await my first lecture on appropriate utilization of talents, against which, I am stocking the arsenal in rebuttals.)

Captain's Log: Day 8

Today, I must be brief. I believe my expression should communicate any lapses or shortages in my verbiage. I am truly upset. Grandmother Robinson has knit me this lovely cap, in which First Mate calls me "Pumpkin". She has told me that today, on Halloween (what strange names they conceive of), other humans will also be donning holiday apparel. I have yet to see a single other human wearing a cap similar to my own. I believe that she has misled me. I am the only Pumpkin. 

Captain’s Log: Day 7

“My what big feet she has!” I am shamed!! In my home country, The Womb, big feet are celebrated as a sign of royalty. (Of course, I am the only one celebrating them as The Womb was a population of one, but nevertheless they were celebrated. I do not think it necessary to get into the vagaries of my country at this time. It is a silly place. I digress…) Ah yes, my feet and their magnificence. I hear my grandmother exclaim that this is an undeniable “Robinson” trait. The validity of these claims are suspect at best. However, they do talk of providing me with the finest footwear in the coming months. It would be remiss of me to say that I am not pleased by this proposition. Perhaps, I will now soil my diaper only three times tomorrow. Or perhaps not, I never know how much control I have over these things. 

Captain's Log: Day 2

Hello, Grandmother Lalor! The title, as I understand it, should be as such, but I have since heard some pandering and bickering to the degree of adopting "nicknames" in lieu of their true title.

"Grandmother Lalor" and "Grandmother Robinson" seem to be averse to the age and stature which their full names imply. The two have been lobbing suggestions into the audience for the past several hours, to be torpedoed, time after time, by an impatient audience. "GiGi", "Grams", "Moms" and more- the topic was practically incessant.

 It was all I could do to hasten my arrival and inspire new ideas, but alas, I can't quite say if they've definitively landed upon a final name.

No matter, GL holds me quite comfortably, showed the proper amount of excitement for my appearance (exuberant). For this, I hold her in great esteem. 

Captain's Log: Day 1

Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty I am free at last!* BL, my ambiguous moniker, dies with the last dregs of the epidural; I am Teresa! Hear me screech!

Those ribs and spine are finally out of my way, legs stretch, arms stretch, and, with that thorough yoga completed, I sleep. 

*Editor's Note: My first mate has recently informed me of the extent of my father's nerdom. In a nod to this, perhaps as a way to accumulate "brownie points" and earn my way towards a car in future state, I shall include the obligatory "Hello World" in my pilot. It pains me more than my time at Mercy to say how quickly I've been corrupted by outside influence.