What are you looking at?

I’m feeling vulnerable here, and you old women are always staring at me.

Hey, leave the hair alone! I’m not a plaything.

And why does your food smell better than mine?

All I get is that sweet stuff out of mummy and tasteless, odourless wet stuff she puts into my mouth.

Nothing that smells as good as what you lot are eating.

And when will someone clean out my pants?

I tell you, the service around here lacks a certain je ne sais quoi!

If you leave the poop against my tender butt for too long I get one of those nasty, painful rashes, and I’m always getting them, which means you are the worst mother!

Neglect is what it is. Bad food, ignore the full nappy, and too many over perfumed, noisy old gasbags staring at me all the darn long day.