Dear Diary,

I am not allowed to stay up until New Year's Eve. WHAT KIND OF INJUSTICE IS THIS, I ASK YOU? I am eight years old! The Awesome Me is totally old enough. Gilbird agrees. Toni is getting to stay up this year. This will be Francis' third year to stay up! Mein gott, Vati is treating me like a stupid baby! I told him that I bet Arthur Kirkland will let Peter stay up when he's eight. Vati says he bets Arthur doesn't stay up.

Oh well, at least I have my garden gnomes. I put them all in my room, except on is on my treehouse balcony. After all, I can't risk them being stolen. Although what kind of jerk would steal garden gnomes?

Dear Diary,

It is New Year's Eve! I am going to stay up, and when it turns midnight I will burst into the living room and prove Vati wrong! Hah! He should know his son is too awesome to even have a bedtime! Oh well, he will learn.

I have some fireworks that I got from Alfred Jones, Arthur's awesome adopted little brother. Antonio and Francis and I will send each other sky messages. It will be so awesome, I can hardly wait! I'll stay up all

Dear Diary,

Night. :/ So yes, perhaps even The Awesome Me falls asleep too early sometimes. But mark my words, next year shall be different! Next year, I shall be nine, I tell you, NINE! And nine is almost ten, which is practically a teenager, so I'll basically be an adult next year! And then no one can foil my plots for world domination.

Dear Diary,

West has a cold. It's really annoying because he keeps sneezing and coughing and won't shut up. Vati says it's not West's fault, but I'm getting really sick of it. All I did was try and put duct tape over his nose so he couldn't sneeze anymore and I got this big Gilbert Beilschmidt How Dare You Duct Tape Your Sick Little Brother's Face and By the Way Just Where Is He Oh Mein Gott You Put Him in the Closet Again You Ought to Be Ashamed of Yourself Young Man No Gummi Bears for a Week, and No Seeing Toni and Francis for a Week Either.

Now I have to write another list.

More Things I Am Not Allowed to Do, by Gilbert Beilschmidt

I will not put West in my treehouse and leave him there so I can't hear him.

I will understand that West cannot control his sneezing and coughing.

I will not feed West garlic soup, even if I think that would make him feel better.

I will not lock the door on West.

I will not spank West.

I will get spanked if I spank West.

I will not sing with Gilbird to the public domain because the public domain does not enjoy fine music, apparently.

I will not drink beer until I am twelve, or sixteen. I will also not let Gilbird smoke Vati's pipe.

I will not bring my snowman into my room to preserve him.

I will not shoot Roman Candles in the bathroom.

Mein Gott, how can a man have any fun in this stupid house? Oh well, I'll just play with my garden gnomes and Gilbird. At least they understand me.

Dear Diary,

There's no more snow! D: What am I supposed to do now? Now it's just miserably cold, but without any snow to make up for it! And I have to go back to school. West is better now, but he still doesn't have to go to school anyway because he's a baby.

Although I am beginning to enjoy West a little more, I think. He's saying more words, like "Gilbird" and "awesome" and "domination" and "garden gnomes". Plus I'm trying to teach him how to say "Scheisse" but I have to do it in secret or else I'll- say it with me, kids- get in trouble.