Those two people who think they are in charge are too busy having a cold and getting ready to go on a vacation, so I decided to take over this blog thing for this week. It really isn’t that hard. I see my daddy pushing buttons on the computer thingy all the time, so I figured I could give it a shot.
They keep telling me that this week I will be 15 months old, whatever that means. Why can’t I be a year or a year and a half? What’s this obsession with counting every week and month until I’m two? All that time figuring out how old I am takes away from time that could be spent making my food.
The lady – we’ll call her “mommy” – is a pretty good cook. I especially like anything that is cut small enough for me to shove every single piece of it into my mouth. I just like the way she acts when I do it. I have to keep those people on their toes. I have to remind them how easy they really have it. So, every once in a while I’ll throw a piece of food on the floor or cover my body in yogurt. It’s funny watching their faces… and it’s supposed to be good for my skin, anyway.
So far this place isn’t too bad. I have a lot of toys that keep me pretty interested and if I get too stinky, they clean me up pretty good. That’s another place I have to keep them on their toes. There’s no fun in just laying there, letting them change me. I have to wriggle around. It let’s me see how good they really are.
Sometimes I get to visit other people. I don’t know them too well, so I don’t get overly friendly. That is, unless they have something to give me. Just last weekend I went and visited my daddy’s mommy and she had this dolly stroller. That was pretty neat. I went all over the whole house as fast as I could. Then all these other people showed up and kept trying to talk to me. I think they all need to learn to talk a little better. I couldn’t understand a word they said. It’s like when I go visit my mommy’s mommy. So many people trying to talk to me. At least there, some of them are closer to my height.
When we’re not going to visit big people, I get to go to school. It’s lots of fun there. I get to run around and get dirty. There are other people my size who like to run around and get dirty with me. They like to feed me and give me clean pants too. It’s just like being at home, but there’s a lot more noise. But, by the end of the day, I get pretty tired of those other kids and when I see my mommy or daddy come to pick me up, I’m ready to go home. Mostly because I know they will give me more food.
I like my home because it all belongs to me and I can do whatever I want. Mommy and daddy like to try to keep me from doing certain things, but I know this: I will figure out how to do those things eventually, and I mainly do it to make them chase after me. It’s lots of fun.
I think I’m training them pretty well. They feed me regularly, keep me clean and they kiss me all the time! They’re finally starting to figure out how to play, too. The daddy one makes funny voices when we read books and the mommy one tickles me, so I think I’ll keep them around for a little while.
I know that soon they will figure out what I’m trying to say. It’s so hard to get them to understand me. Usually, I just want some food or juice. But a lot of the time I’m trying to tell them thank you for all their hard work. The truth is that even though they are new at taking care of me, they are doing a pretty good job. I can’t wait till they figure out that most of the time I’m saying “I love you.” Because I do.
Alright, I have to go. I haven’t heard from them in a while. I’d better cry or something and maybe I’ll get another kiss. Bye!
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