Sharing and Giving Are Not Natural to Me

Mommy and Daddy and I took part in something that I did not quite understand. We wrote on these signs and then took a picture of them. Daddy came up with what to write on mine, and Mommy wrote it. I had nothing to do with it, and I was not pleased.

I was much dissatisfied with my sign. Can you tell?

It appears that this was some sort of attempt to spread the word about Jesus as I talked about in my last post. That sounds wonderful, but there are two issues which I have with this particular endeavor.

Number One: I do not share, and I do not give. Other people share gifts with me, and by share, I mean relinquish to my possession. That is how a monarchy works; do not blame me, blame the system I have instituted.

Number Two: I am the most benevolent monarch there is, or ever could be. All those who believe otherwise are welcome to leave my kingdom. Pay no mind to the fact that that will be exceptionally difficult as the world is my kingdom. I could not be any more benevolent nor monarchical. I am the peak of congeniality and graciousness, and that is why I can demand you all to give me more presents, attention, and food. In fact, all would be wonderful to have in my possession at this very moment, if you do not mind kindly delivering them to my current residence. Thank you. And you are welcome.

Just as a miniature postscript, I would like to reaffirm that I love Jesus as much as any 7-month-old can, and that is why I ended up being willing to write this post. I say this in order to assuage any of your fears of sacrilege regarding such a sardonic entry such as this one.

Also, Daddy says to visit this link to learn more about the signs: christmas.mormon.org

That's What Christmas is All About, Princess Ellie

Alright, citizens, I believe I finally have gained some understanding regarding this holiday of Christmas. It seems to make the most sense out of all of the holidays I have celebrated as of yet. GrandMommyServant explained it to me by reading me a book.

"This book is implying that the world existed before me. I do not understand."

She also gave me a special group of toys that are called, altogether, a nativity.

"I am understanding everything else...but what was the sheep's role in the Savior's birth?"

The first time that I was given the nativity, I did my best to organize it.

I apologize for all of the noise, we were watching a program with a considerable amount of music. Somebody was talking and not allowing the singing to occur, so I filled in for them.

Let me explain this story to you the way that I understand it:

There is a King even more powerful than me (this was the hardest part for me to grasp. It took time, but I came to terms with it.). He has this Son, Jesus, who was born, just like me, but in circumstances surprisingly unbecoming of the Son of such a great King.

This is a representation of Him in the nativity I have. Mommy and Daddy tease about me biting Him, but if it was so sacrilegious, why did they make Him bite size?

He was the rightful king of the land He lived in, but He was not terribly worried about all of that (which is, to me, the most remarkable personality trait about Him). He spent all of His life serving others until He died (a concept I do not grasp yet) and then came back to life so that way people who are imperfect (unlike me) could repent, come back to life, and return to live with their Heavenly Daddy again. He is quite a fantastic fellow. This is, of course, not the first time my parents have spoken to me about Him, but this is most definitely the most memorable (and most photographed).

This is of fairly great import, as it explains why everyone celebrates by putting up trees, decorating their houses, giving me presents (since He is not currently here, that makes me the greatest monarch in the world, so I will gladly receive presents in His place), and accepting a bearded gentleman to enter their castles via the fireplace, when the rest of the year that would most likely end in calling the guards to apprehend such an intruder. This also puts meaning to the worship services we attend each Sunday. I now understand why it is acceptable for me to miss my beauty naps on that day so others can worship the Highest Ranking Monarch and revel in my presence, the Highest Ranking Monarch Currently on the Earth.

Yet I still fail to comprehend the purpose of that anthropomorphized snowman, Frosty....

An Existential Crisis in Seattle

Again, I was able to meet up with my cousins to take a trip into Seattle, a large city. This trip reminded me just how large of a responsibility it is to be the monarch for so many citizens, and it made me tired very quickly. I was still delightful, however, although I did not appreciate the plethora of layers I was forced to wear.

"Mommy, Cousin Hendrick's parents don't make him dress this way! Cousin Hendrick's parents truly love him."

"I am so comfortable it is uncomfortable. My life is a paradox. What is life? Who am I??"

The worst parts (even worse than that aforementioned existential crisis) were the mittens.

Notice that they are mocking my vain attempts to hold the paper. And why does he take the paper, and not the gloves?

It was still an enjoyable trip. however, as I was able to see a little train and some really fancy gingerbread castles. I do not know what gingerbread is, but it sure is ornate. I believe I need a much larger gingerbread castle of my own to live in.

"Whoa, that is a very miniature locomotive."

"Daddy how do they find such little people for such a minute train?"

"How is it that such little people can deserve such a more elaborate palace than me? Am I really the Princess of Quite-A-Lot?"

Party with the Cousins

Living at both GrandServants' castles means being in a closer proximity to many of the same cousins I had waiting on me at the beach reunion. One of the main ones I got to see was Cousin Hendrick, who I see fairly often. I have started to realize, however, that he is an exceedingly happy little boy until he is placed next to me for a photograph. I do not understand why this is, unless, perhaps, he is intimidated by my beauty. He should not be intimidated; he is an extremely handsome young man. Or perhaps he does not agree with my foreign policies. 

"Oh, goodness, you are not happy!"

"Mommy, why is he always happier away from me?"

"There, there, cousin Hendrick."

"See, Hendrick? This is how they like their Christmas photographs done: Raise your hands to the lights and say HALLELUJAH!"

"Are you all calmed down, now? That is good, but you may not have my dress."

"Are you sure you are better? You look slightly tipsy."

And then, just when we were ready for a picture, Daddy messed up and made it all fuzzy.

Cousin Hendrick has also, as of late, given into the demands of his parents and has started crawling. All present attempted to use him as an exemplar for how I should live my life, but I knew better. Once I start crawling, then my parents will stop carrying me places and expect me to get toys all by myself. I must not allow such a dangerous precedent to be set. I am, however, interested in standing, but only so I can then get closer to their height and seem more regal while demanding things from them.

"Oh, no! You have given in! I warned you about crawling!"

"I refuse to look at such a blatant display of parental control over your life."

"GrandAuntieServant Karen, do you mind distracting me from this horrific scene?"

I also was able to see other cousins, like one of my favorites, Cousin Brooklin.

"Oooh, that looks like a fun toy!"

"This is not a fun toy! Please remove it from my face!"

"Cousin Brooklin, why did you treat me that way?"

Princess Ellie, the Virtuoso

Mommy is a very talented pianist. She plays the piano at church and it sounds incredible. The best part of that, however, is that there is a large number of miniature people who sing along with what she plays. Now we have a piano at my GrandServant Littles' castle AND my GrandServant Gates' castle, so she can play as I sing my most beautiful dadadas. I have also discovered that I am naturally talented and, like Mommy, require no practice.

Look at that flawless form!

I know, not all can be as good as me at playing the piano from birth. Do not judge your performance against mine in this or any other field. It will never be a fair comparison. Perfection like this only comes along once every, well, me.

My Servants Deserve Some Applause

I have already stated that I will not perform tricks for others like some sort of jester. There are times, however, when one must acquiesce to the demands of terrorists in order to preserve the semblance of tranquility. These terrorists were my family, and they would smack their hands together in my face and encourage me to do the same. The whole ordeal startled me so much every time that they clapped that I felt it requisite for me to start mirroring their obnoxious behavior to convince them that they were allowed to leave me alone. Now I have found the action of applauding enjoyable enough for me to do it on all sorts of occasions, and the servants seem to enjoy it so much that they clap their hands for joy and say "Yaaay!"

Applauding GrandMommyServant Gates

Applauding GrandDaddyServant Gates

Applauding the performers in the Magic Box as the audience in the Magic Box applauds

Applauding my toys

Applauding Mommy

Why do this trick and not others? It shows appreciation for all that they do for me, raises their morale, and thus causes them to want to do more for me. You're welcome, kind servants.

Dadadadada

In the last few weeks I have started making a quite unique noise, as recorded by Daddy in the moving picture below.

I apologize for the background noise. This was recorded in a large place which will be written about later. I do not know what Daddy was thinking.

Everyone I see seems delighted by these vocalizations. I was, at first, quite nonplussed as to the reasoning for this excitement, but then everybody started indicating Daddy, claiming he was Dada. This is ludicrous to an extreme extent, as Dada is obviously not Daddy. I sometimes worry that Mommy and Daddy are losing their hearing in their old age. Or their minds.

"My poor, senile parents."

Below is a translation of my royal language into your uncivilized peasant dialect.

Da=That is quite an interesting thought, but I do not believe that there are quite the resources to satiate such a demand. Instead, it may be a better solution to simply give me a toy and/or food.
Dad=Daddy! I love you! Will you please give me a toy and/or food? (or, if he is not around) I miss it when Daddy brings me toys and/or food.
Dada=Fetch me some food and/or a toy, servant.
Da Da = My nappy needs to be replaced. Only a toy AND some food will restore my contentment in this life.
Dadada=I have quite enjoyed obliging to your inherent need for me to grace your arms with my presence, but I have grown tired of the blatant affection and would quite appreciate being returned to the ground where I may control my own destiny. Please supply me with toys and food later.
Dadadadada Da Dadada = Mommy, I love you! Mommy, I do! I'd love you more though if you'd give me food.

This is just a sampling. The royal language is quite complex and is dependent on situation, pitch of my voice, and annunciation, and truly requires the hearer to have the capability to read my mind in order to fully comprehend.

Apparently There is a Tree

As I have mentioned before, dangly toys (from what I understand that is the technical name for them) are the most interesting toys. 

"Whoooaaaa... These are incredible..."

I have recently discovered, however, that as part of celebrating this thing called Christmas, people install coniferous trees into their living spaces and then covers them with a plethora of exceedingly enticing toys.

"This is very pretty...but I fail to understand its import."

I can only assume that this is just another present I have received for this Season of Giving to Me. For some reason, however, it is being called a Christmas Tree, which makes me think that this arrangement is temporary. Which is a shame, as I have not yet discovered how to insert the hot illuminated bulbs nor the spiky green thingies into my mouth. Not that I believe that I would enjoy placing either of those objects on my tongue, but I should have the right to do so if I feel so inclined.

A Princess Cannot Be Trained to Do Tricks

When my GrandServants were visiting for the Thanksgiving Weekend, my grandma believed she had taught me a new trick. As I have mentioned before, I intentionally do not act for others like some sort of court jester. That is their purpose, not mine. So when Daddy retrieved his camera to record how I was reacting to my grandma's noises, I decidedly halted my actions for a good minute. I could no longer withhold my facial expressions, below is what happened.

As you can tell, they again falsely assumed I was doing it solely for their enjoyment. The true fact is that I was tilting my head to the side, holding my own hand, and smiling, because I was trying to convey the message "Now Grandma, do you not believe it is time to cease those ridiculous noises and feed me already?" The following frames will prove this for you.

"Really, Grandma? You believe this is the proper way to treat a princess?"

And this one from the very last moment of the moving picture.

"Seriously? Are you done yet? I want my food!"

I have done these faces before, as you have seen from photographs of me looking at the toy catalog with my grandma. Yet as you may notice, the similarity between both situations is that I am kindly asking for something. If you ever have the rare opportunity for me to grace you with my presence and see me make this face, kindly deliver on my request or I will no longer ask nicely. This warning is a sign of my affection.

Beauty Sleep for Sleeping Beauty

Mommy and Daddy have been commenting on my habit as of late of not complaining about waking up in an empty room, and I feel that I should explain.

Of course, I have not ever been much of one to complain. I know that many of my entries do cover the topic of me issuing grievances, but I am, believe it or not, exceptionally happy and content for a princess my age. I only make a fuss when it is absolutely necessary. I will, for instance, express my discontent with being held for too long, but will not do so unnecessarily for something menial such as having my eyes covered by a bow. When being pushed around in my pram, Mommy and Daddy have to be told by complete strangers that my bow has fallen over my eyes, as I do not believe it is worth the effort to inform them of this unfortunate event. Here is a picture of me when I was a mere infant, not being upset about my eyes being covered.

I am the Princess of the Pirates. Give me your booty or I will cute you! Arrrr!

I have, since then, transferred this on to other portions of my life as well. Here is how I typically look when my parents come to get me from my nap.

"Oh, hello, there! What have you been doing? I have just been here, being cute."

Now that I have set the scene, now let me elaborate why I behave in such a way. Mommy has said that when I am particularly vocal in my distress, she has found it difficult to accomplish the tasks she felt she needed to accomplish on my behalf. As such, I have decided instead to allow her to serve me better and not distract her from serving me with needless explanations of my discontent. 

I also sometimes get so distracted by my hands as to forget to call for my servants. I know that I have attempted to explain how fascinating my hands are, but I do not believe you understand how exciting they are.

Furthermore, the longer time in bed helps me be happy and, thus, more beautiful for pictures. Except for my hair.

My beauty sleep sure does pay off, huh?

"You think my hair is crazy, Daddy? You should see yours!"

I do not, however, need "beauty sleep," as I am always at the pinnacle of beauty; yet being more happy is always a bonus for pictures.

Never Fear, BatPrincess is Here!

Today, I was whisked away from my Daddy. My Mommy and I are going to see my GrandServants as well as some friends in Washington. I was again forced to endure a flight. I do not know why my parents believe that sitting in a loud room that tilts adds anything to my experience.

Me happily chewing on Eli the Elephant, completely unaware of the torture I am about to face.

As soon as the flight started making all of its loud noises and started moving, I began loudly protesting the villainous flight to which I was being subjected. My complaining was especially vehement, more so than my normal protestations. I eventually grew so exhausted that I fell asleep. When I woke up and found myself still in the flight, I abandoned my verbal objections and succumbed to the idea that I must, of necessity, suffer my anguish in silence. It was all worth it, as I am now being surrounded by four GrandServants. I have not seen the ones of the Gates genus for quite a long time. It was nice to chat with them, get reacquainted, and allow them to get accustomed to caring for my needs at all times.

Daddy will be joining us soon, he just had to take care of a few things, which I believe is just an ambiguous hint at him getting me more toys, as giving me presents seems to be at the heart of this Christmas Season.

Before we left, however, we had some pictures taken of us to prove we are superheroes.

Keeping the streets safe.

"Oh, well, hello there admiring citizens!"

Greetings from the BatFamily!

Another proof of my superhuman abilities was earlier this day when my parents took me to get yet another shot. I did not scream, cry, or even tear up. I know that this sounds impossible, but it must be proof that I am divinely appointed to be your Benevolent Monarch. I am sure, however, that none of you needed that proof.

Santa Claus

This Christmas Season which I am currently experiencing may be even more bizarre than the Halloween Holiweek. The latest installment of the festivities included a visit to a strange man with a beard and odd clothing preferences. I was asked to sit on his knee and look at the camera.

"I do not understand this, Daddy. Who is this man? And why does my shirt say I am his sweetheart?"

I had no trouble with him (I live with a bearded man with odd clothing preferences) but after I had sat upon his lap, I stayed close by and watched as some children did not handle the whole situation very well. They would scream, stomp the floor, fling their arms, and refuse to sit on the poor gentleman's lap. This raised my concerns regarding this man. Who is this man that would instill such fear in the hearts of other children? The only conclusion to which I can come is that he must be some sort of nobleman who desires to receive pictures with everyone in his kingdom. I am, of course, the highest ranking official in the world, but he must be some lesser monarch. Most of his citizens seemed to be more than happy to oblige to his wishes, while others, most likely those less pleased with his foreign policies, had a harder time. This can be the only explanation, as the man himself seemed exceedingly convivial. He even gave all those who sat on his lap a very large sock packed full of items, even after the visitors demanded other gifts out of him to be delivered at a future date.

He appeared more than happy to have his superior sit upon his lap, and I am glad, now that I know who he is, and how giving he is, that I obliged to do so. And Duke Clause, since I know that you must be an avid reader, I would like to take this opportunity to ask for what I would like for Christmas:

Gardens, like the Duke Gardens.

A Castle, much like the one I stayed in at the Outer Banks.

A very large bathtub for swimming. My parents referred to it as a pool.

All four of my GrandServants to keep a constant presence and presents delivery.

Auntie Cari and Uncle James to live closer.

Turkey and Sweet Potatoes everyday.

A Doggy.

A Lion.

For all people everywhere to recognize that the world is my toy, and stop being so possessive and withholding and just let me gnaw on everything.

Your Superior Always,
Princess Ellie


PS Why does that shirt say that am I your sweetheart?

Spoiled Rotten

My GrandServants just left. I am pretty upset about this. For what seemed to be a very long time, they pampered me and waited on me hand and foot. And with feet as cute as these, can you blame them?

Daddy says that my legs appear as if I'm dancing like a ballerina when I am in my jumperoo. I do not know what a ballerina is, but they should be thankful to be considered as graceful as me.

As you could see from my previous posts, my GrandServants did an exquisite job at paying nearly ceaseless attention to me. Now that they are gone, I am being expected to go back to allowing my parents to do necessary chores instead of playing with me incessantly. I let them know this whenever they look somewhere other than at me or are farther away from me than I deem appropriate. 

I miss receiving the constant attention I deserve!

I have also obtained the habit of voicing my disappointment whenever they take a toy away from me (remember, all things in life are my toys). I had never done this before, but viewed it in other citizens of similar height. 

"Why are you crying?"

"Hmm, maybe I should start crying at inopportune moments for my parents as well..."

They did, however, leave me with some presents, like these pajamas and this hat. I did my best to model them like all of the models I saw in stores when we went shopping last weekend. The secret to modeling is to not look as if you are pleased to be modeling.

I love these clothes but I will pretend to not love them for the sake of this picture.

Or if you do look happy while modeling, ensure that you do not appear too happy.

This slight smirk really accentuates my dress's ability to accentuate my cuteness.

These outfits, however, do not make up for their loss. Or, more importantly, the fact that my parental units have not replaced them with other servants. Perhaps they will eventually realize that they must hire new servants to serve me while I act indifferent.

See, Grandpa? This is how it works: you stare at me while I stare at this. Do not attempt to upset the status quo.

Merry Christmas!

Apparently another holiday has started already. My parents are explaining it all to me. I do not understand this picture, but I now realize that Daddy was tricking me into looking at that light for a photo. I wonder how often they have deceived me like that with noises and pointing for their own selfish purposes.