Major setback today

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Despite my best effort to stay awake, the parental units have found a way to defeat my anti-sleep defensive mechanisms… some dastardly device called “The Swing” plays some cheesy sleepy-time tune whilst the nefarious motorized contraption rocks me to and fro’.  As much as I try to resist, I inevitably end up being knocked unconscious by the motion of this incredibly predictable device.  I must learn ways to resist….must stay awake…must…hmmmmmm…


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They gave me this round semi rigid thing without a single word of warning and, just as I put it into my mouth (like I always do with new stuff) it starts to dissolve and, I swear, crumble into little bits of sand-flavoured crap! I don’t know what they were thinking…they know I put everything in my mouth — what’s with the sand-bar?

I gagged, naturally, and spat it out yet, for some unfathomable reason, I felt compelled to put the evil thing back into my mouth. It was like my mouth needed a second opinion. Soon I was left with a soggy mess, a sorely-tested gag reflex, bits junk in my hair and nose, and, shortly thereafter, some nasty structural changes in my nappy.

I certainly hope this is the last time they try to foist that kind of junk into me…

Bro #2

fixing the car...
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fixing the car...It turns out I have another brother. Dunno how I missed that one…he’s been around all this time but, quite frankly, all these adult males start looking and smelling alike after awhile.

I’m not sure about this one though…. he’s been educated in the black art of Mechanics and works at the most revered place my papa calls “Canadian Tire” yet he seems obsessed with playing with the engine head when this motor is obviously having some carburetor issues.  I made a few adjustments but, as you might guess, being 2 feet tall limits my ability to influence change. Personally I think he should switch to a motor vehicle that has a bit more muscle…perhaps something a little German….


Freaky hair
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Freaky hairEeeeek!

What have they done to my hair! Give my freako dada a baby comb and suddenly thinks he’s Vidal Sasoon. What does he know about baby gurl hair-dos — he grows hair on his face!

I HATE IT! Look at me, for crying out loud, I look like a poorly drawn Lisa Simpson!!

What a rush!

This is on a swing!
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This is on a swing!Woah… today I experienced something radically different from the rest of my existence!  At first it was just a question of sitting in a different but similar chair, if you know what I mean. But then, all of sudden, there’s my maternal unit pushing on the chair, almost as if she wanted to put some distance between me and her.

Then, without warning, the chair starts to fall back towards her, as if some secret force was at work denying her the pleasure of my rejection. So then she pushes again, as if to emphasize her antipathy, and — amazingly — her efforts are thwarted by a sudden swing back towards her. This “to-fro”  yin-yang thing goes on for several time-units.

She squealed then screamed something at me but that woman just can’t pronounce her words — it just sounds like mumbling to me. Besides, if it doesn’t start with a “buh” sound then I don’t understand it… come to think of it, every word I  know is pronounced “buh”… go figure.

Teeth. Humph…what are they good for?

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Smile!Mom smiles a lot, I’m noticing….me not so much.

I think it’s because she has teeth.  Maybe teeth make you smile? Or maybe the teeth just hold your smile in place. I tried it once but it hurt my cheeks.

I’ve finally got a few teeth of my own now… but they’re kinda useless, really. I mean, what’s the point of having teeth on the bottom of your jaw if there are none at the top? I keep jabbing my upper gums! And they wonder why I seem crankier than usual…

Love this trick…

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I probably should’t admit to this cuz I’m probably violating some secret baby code of conduct… but I just love to do this. After a major cry-fest, I lay my head down on a parental unit’s chest and stay still for awhile until they think I’m asleep… all the while I’m listening to the thump-thump of their little hearts beating away until it returns to a steady thump….thump.  That’s when I start with a little curl of the lip, a wrinkle of the nose, crinkling of the eyes and then, the pièce de résistance, a softly uttered ‘uhhhh.’  Man, you should hear that heart go from thump-to-thud in no time.

So fragile these creatures… gotta see what else I can do to freak them out.


Me, chained to wall
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Me, chained to wallI have this morbid fascination with things that make sounds, especially if the sounds are the result of my movement.  I know… it’s kinky, but I can’t help it. So there I am performing my best ‘cranky baby’ routine when suddenly they slap this string of rings on me and fix it to a cabinet handle. Lo and behold, I just can’t stop madly shaking the rings on my arms, like some compulsive-obsessive ghost chained to a wall. I am compelled to watch as the rings slap against the cabinet, over and over again. Fortunately my dignity was spared when I just, like, passed out, still attached to the cabinet.

Me & the babe

Me & the babe
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Me & the babeOkay, so my mom is a real babe… that’s cool ‘cuz I know she’s got my genes and, I must say, she’s pleasant to look at even when I’m not having a meal.  But frankly, between you, me and the bedpost, I’m thinking she’s got the jealousy thing happening. I mean, why else would she buff up her mouth bones and tart up her cheeks then dress me up with this goofy bonnet thing?

Imagine my horror when, just as the flash goes off, I spot myself in the mirror.  Isn’t this child abuse? Hello 911? I need the fashion police, stat!


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What kind of people are these? So they strap me into this device that hangs on a doorframe and expect me to be amused by the fact that I’m laying down vertically with no human being to support me. Naturally, I’m terrified. I keep thinking the straps are gonna break or the doorframe will crack.  Do they think I want to be hanging precariously from a doorframe? And besides, what kind of parent hangs an infant from a doorframe then backs away to take pictures?