March 17, 1921.
Had a bad day. Cried all morning and most of the afternoon. Poor, distracted Mother threatened to exchange me for a new baby, but she feared they wouldn’t take me back because I had been used too long. I tried to tell her that the trouble was caused by too much gas in my little insides, but she wasn’t quite sure she understood me aright. She began to fear the fault lay in her and that her milk wasn’t enough for me, but of course that wasn’t it.
Mrs. Katherine Hench, who has had four babies, lunched with Mother and her good advice and wisdom born of experience helped Mother a great deal.
A bright spot in the day was the little silver spoon that Peter Dewey gave me. [Peter is Mrs. Dewey’s beautiful bird, which we take care of when the Deweys are away. We are very fond of him.]