It’s pronounced cottage cheese, not Scottish cheese.
This morning, when you told me your pajamas were dry and that you wanted to stay in them for awhile, I said that would be fine. Then two hours later I stepped on your blankie, which was soaking wet and smelled like pee. When I asked you why your blankie was wet, you said you didn’t know. Something’s not stacking up here, son. I’m just saying.
Dear Baby Sprinkle,
No matter how hard you try, you cannot be born through my ribs. Trust me.