November 21st 2006
Hello, my name is Daniel Damir Jones. I live in the baby-house in Ust-Kamenogorsk, Kazakhstan and for the past few weeks a rather strange but quite nice lady has been coming to see me everyday. She is a bit slow as she cannot understand anything I say to her, though she has learnt to understand "FOOD NOW!" recently so she is showing some promise. She also brings biscuits which are fab and plastic rings which roll for ever such a long way when you throw them on the floor. And then she goes to pick them up so I can do it again.
She didn't come today which is very odd and I missed my biscuits. I heard from the kid in the crib in the corner that she is going to ask an important man if she can be my Mama, I'm not sure why she has to ask him because the Aunties who take care of me call her Mama already. Aida has a Mama too, it must be a very common name where my Mama comes from. I hope she isnt going to cry again tomorrow, she did that a bit at first (though so did I) but she seems to have pulled herself together recently, I have a reputation to think of in the sick bay.
I am very tiny, you wouldn't think I was nearly one, but you have to remember that I was only part-baked when I first arrived and had to cook a while longer in the hospital so my Mama says, she has been buying me 6-9 months clothes and they seem to fit quite well. They are an improvement on the pink outfits the Aunties put me in quite a lot but my Mama still takes photos of me anyway, she says I will be a teenager one day and she will need the photos of me in a pink velour babygrow to keep me in line.
I'm not sure what happens next - word on the street is that it will be another two weeks before she will be called Mama forever and then no-one will be able to say she is not - not ever. Not like the Aunties who sometimes go away after a little while. After that, we go away somewhere together and I think she will feed me biscuits all the time.