I don't want to talk to daddy. I don't want to talk to Uncle Jay. I want to be alone with my elephant (whose name I still can't decide). I am on the breakfast bar and Uncle Jay is feeding Carol waffles and daddy is trying to feed me. I don't want to eat. I sit there and pout, refusing to open my mouth, even if the waffles look yummy. Daddy let Mr. G take me. I hate daddy. I hate Uncle Jay. They promised they'd be there with me all the time. They were not. Daddy looks miserable. He isn't eating either. Carol is the only one eating.
I just want to sleep, again. Or maybe read. I haven't read anything in three days.
"Open up, Ana. It's been three days since you have had any solid food. Please." daddy implores.
"Not hungwie." I say. That has been my standard response to food for the past thr
