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.