We have taken in a boarder by the name of Mikey. Some lady drops him off each morning in what appears to be a picnic basket. I can only assume that he is meant to be a substitute jester while my usual jester, Daddy disappears for the majority of most days. Unlike Daddy, though, Mikey is much smaller and appears to not understand his role in being my entertainment. He has the bad habit of believing he has the right to touch my toys. I allow him to do so, however, as I am, after all, The Benevolent Monarch. He plays with me adequately, but unlike the rest of my loyal citizenry who nearly demand my presence upon their laps, Mikey cries whenever I sit upon him. Luckily, he has me to instruct him in the ways of life, including walking, talking, and the art of making loud noises simultaneously or, as my parents call it, singing. I have also, like all good teachers, learned much from him, such as the joys of throwing all books off of shelves: a pleasure in which he has lost interest, but which I have continued. All in all, though, I have come to enjoy - and not simply endure - his presence. Each morning I attempt to escape Mommy to eagerly open the picnic basket so that I may awake him from his selfish slumber and start our day of frivolity.
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