What Child is This?
I mean, first of all, the lady INSISTED on giving birth in our stable. That’s one thing. I mean, when you’ve got to, you’ve got to. I can understand that. But just who does this child think he is?
I not only own this inn, but I also own that land and that pasture and those flocks of sheep. To make a talent in this economy, you’ve got to wear a lot of hats, and it just so happens that my side gigs turned into regular-sized gigs.
So exactly what child is that who thinks he can distract all my shepherds? The sheep are wandering away. My wool profits are going down the drain all because this child is making such a scene.
Wow, what child is this? And who are these wise guys that think it’s funny to encourage him? Not only is the child making a spectacle of himself for none other than the fact that he’s been born, but those dudes are giving him gifts? As if it’s some kind of holiday!
Really, child? There are stars up in the sky every single night. I suppose you think you’re extra special because you can pick out the morning star? Newsflash, it’s there every night. It has nothing to do with you, child.
Honestly, what child is this? One that’s so high maintenance that he had to bring along his own angels, as if he hadn’t already invited enough partying freeloaders into the stable I’m letting him stay in for a REDUCED RATE, may I add. They came swooping in here with a blinding light and singing all these songs I’ve never heard before. If that child doesn’t keep it down, my other tenants are going to complain.
Never in my years have I seen such a fuss over some child. Dear God, what child is this?