I was (not) born in the USA...

Here we go again. My parents must have a few screws loose. After a really long trip on a few airplanes, one of which I definitely made my presence known on, I arrived to America. Mom handed over my embarrassing passport (the photo does not do me justice, whatsoever) and I was in. No extra border checks for me. Suckers. If only they knew what I was smuggling in my diap...

I met lots of neat people, one obnoxious dog and a few calm ones, slept in lots of different beds (and woke up at 3am for the day many a times), was the *star* of two parties, took my first trip to the beach, and hung out in lots of new arms. It was overwhelming sometimes, and then, I cried. I was tired sometimes, and then, I cried. I was hungry sometimes, and then, I cried. Some shit is constant. Me crying just happens to be one of those. It wasn't you though, it was me. Really. Well, maybe sometimes it was you. I mean give me a break for crying out loud, I just met you. But, now we are back here, and I sleep in the same crib everynight, and most days, I only look at two (albeit very pretty) faces, and we go out for walks in my stroller and lots of people call me 'herzlich' (duh, we all know I'm cute, stop already), but it's quiet and lots of times, my Mom is just downright boring, and well, I miss you guys....