Memo to Mom

Hi Mom.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm teething. I know you have been racking your brain for legitimate reasons for me to have no appetite, whine all the time, pull at your clothing, put non-edibles in my mouth, and scream at the slightest offense. I just made it easy and told you. Now you can take a deep breath and reassess how you are dealing with me. Usually I have no complaints (besides being forced to wear clothes), but as of late, I would like to point out some of your behavioral flaws.
Firstly, when I am busy doing something fun like tasting the refrigerator magnets or stuffing my cheeks with pistachio shells like a squirrel, do not start your address with, "NO!!!!" it really sends the wrong message, and quite frankly rubs me the wrong way. This is why I reply with an earsplitting scream and as pouty of a face as I can muster.
Secondly, when I make my most injured face (the one where you can see all eight of my teeth) do not start to laugh. I don't care if it's some sort of therapeutic release from exasperation or if you just need a good slap, just don't do it. So bad for my budding sense of self esteem. Just because I can go from smiles to baby troll face in milliseconds does not mean that you shouldn't immediately adjust your handling of the situation. Now I know a common belief among you adult people is that if a poor baby (like myself) is not shedding tears, then its not an urgent situation, but let me just dispel that awful notion from your head. In fact, sometimes a non-tear situation is even more dire than bonking my head on the table when I stand up underneath it. And yes, I knew the table top was there... I just forgot momentarily. I cried because I was embarrassed- not shocked. You see, a non-tear situation could be as simple as me wailing at your knees because you were handling "hot" things in the kitchen and refused to pick me up even after I demanded "Up, UPPPPF" twenty three times in varying degrees of insistence/distress. I actually had to wait there on the floor for all of 6 minutes whilst you puttered around making food that I was about to vehemently reject anyway.
While I am thinking about food, I wanted to remind you not to bother to make any for me because I won't eat it anyway. I am so repelled by the thought right now that I have to go drink some bathwater (sans bubbles please- I've had gas lately).
Also, you should know that your conduct yesterday was utterly deplorable. We were in a public place, and you dared to try and get me to eat. I don't care that you ordered me my very own Quesadilla with a side of beans and Spanish rice. Did I ask for it? NO (just learned that word- so handy). I didn't even ask for your strawberry cheesecake. What, you think that because you willfully withhold sweets from me that I'll immediately cave and eat them when offered?! Do you even know me?!
That you had the heart to let Papa smear some on my lips to get me to taste it was a real slap in the face! I hope you enjoyed watching me sputter away every minuscule particle and then spew some drool out just for good measure. You must have, because I noticed you couldn't stop laughing even after Papa advised you against it. You claimed to have been laughing with me but did you see my face? It was not laughing. Not hungry means (say it with me now) "NOT HUNGRY". I thought they taught this stuff in Parent-Ed. Oh wait- that is a course scattered throughout a myriad of websites and support groups on the internet- many of which aren't helpful at all and disperse bad advice and recipes.

So I have an idea. Why don't you go eat some chocolate and do some jumping jacks- I'm thinking of having a chocolate milkshake later. Oh, was that too crude? I didn't think so, I mean I am talking to the one who voluntarily evaluates the properties of my scat every day...