vampire baby
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
We no longer have time or energy for anything. It's no longer just a matter of not going out or something like that. Now we don't even have time for all of the routine stuff we have to do (accounting, chores, etc). It's the constant workload of the boy plus the incessant sicknesses that's he's bringing home. Two rounds of an intestinal bug for my wife, one for me, mycoplasm "atypical pneumonia" for me, a lingering bronchial cough for me, and now a low-grade fever for both of us.
And yet, Kenny's abilities continue to grow and flourish. He can easily do most of the things that adults can do when it comes to sorting out the physical world around him, including the ability to figure out which complex two-dimensional shapes (and simple three-dimensional shapes) go in which place in puzzles. He hasn't figured out hand-eye coordination for throwing things, but that's one he can put off 'til he's in University as far as I'm concerned. He can learn when scolded, and has learned how to babble certain phrases when he's trying to argue with us. He's now eating reasonably well (when he's not too sick), and is using metal utensils. While he's not sleeping through the night (it's now been over a year!) he did manage to make it through six hours in a given night for three nights in a row. He's learning to play well with others and to share.
In all, he's coming along nicely.
If only it didn't come at the expense of his parents, who are both zombies. Zombie slaves of a vampire lord.