Without A Doubt All Time Favorite Toys End of Discussion Period

I used to just lay under my Lions Den.

That was...

...before I knew...

...I could roll it!

It's like a Kolerized Hamster Wheel.
LOVE it!

I also love plastic cups.  Preferrably the ones from gas stations.  Bring me home a Big Gulp, Mama! 

Tupperware is hours of entertainment.

Speaking of entertainment, I know why they call them Entertainment Centers.  HOURS of joy from these handles.  It is literally a center of entertainment.

And there is still the trusty old mail to rip up.

So, if you've been thinking of me and wanting to get me a "Glad You're All Better" present- I thought I'd throw you a couple ideas.  No pressure.

The Pits

Well.  I made it 8 months.  But I'm sick.  And I hate being sick.  It's miserable.  My nose is real runny, my eyes are real watery, my throat is real coughy.  It's miserable.  My mom keep trying to make me relax and rest.  But that's so boring.  I want to jump in my horse.  I feel worse when I do- but...(sigh)... this is tough.  Mom's been pretty nice about all this.  She gets Vicks' BabyRub and puts it on my chest and the bottoms of my feet.  It feels really good.  She told me that before she married dad she would wear Vicks to bed every night if she was sick or not because she loves the smell so much.  What a nutter.  I feel it is safe to say that Vicks is my new best friend.  It soothes me.  If I wouldn't lick it I bet I could get mom to put it right under my nose. 

I've also discovered an enemy.  I know I am young to have a foe but I do.  I believe the technical name is "The Bulb." Or "The Snot Ripper."  Egh.  It's awful.  It is a device for torment.  Mom pins me down, holds my head in place and forces this up my nose.  I feel like I am getting my brains sucked out.  I protest- but my mom just smiles and says it's okay.  No.  Mom.  It's obviously not okay.  Let me try to communicate that it is NOT okay by screaming and crying and making the neighbors think they should call Child Protection Services on you.  I hate it.  My dad never does it to me because he is nice!  My mom keeps saying "I have to do it." "I have to do it."  I never hear dad say that- maybe I should hang out with him more. 

P.S.  I will not be photographed in this sickly state.  So sorry.  What kind of twisted person are you for wanting to see a picture of a sick baby?  Man!

Mancub on Vacation 101

Fig. 1 Mancub is bathed in deep waters.  Enjoys new ritual.
 Dad-cub watches for oncoming predators. (i.e. Mom-cub with her camera)

Fig. 2  Mancub rests in Big Bear den.  Parties most of the night. 
Wakes after little sleep joyful, excited, and giggly. 
Mom-cub and Dad-cub wake groggy, stiff, and achy.

Fig. 3 Mancub on the hunt for toys gets lost amid hotel sheets and blankets. 
Cries for rescue. 
Then realizes it's pretty fun in there and makes himself very heavy and difficult to lift.

Fig. 4 Mancub in his trunks ready to cruise for Bahama Mammas.
Confident his physique will enhance his chances.

Fig. 5 Mancub sees Mancub-ess cousin in same "trunks."
Wait a minute!  MOM!!!  You said that they were for boys because they had a bikini girl on them!  That's a mermaid!  That's The Little Mermaid!  And they are PINK!  What do you take me for?  A fool?  I'm not going to get any girls wearing these dorky girl diapers!
I'm so embarrassed.

An Eating Disorder

This morning I woke up and I simply did not want to eat.  Why this was such a foreign concept to my mother, I do not know.  She was acting like I eat around the clock.  Like I can't get up and just start my morning like a normal human being- reading the paper or something.  Like I HAVE to hit the old milk truck first thing.  Sheesh!  I'm not addicted you know.  She tried and tried to get me to nurse but take a hint mom, I wasn't hungry.  She couldn't take the suttle hints of arching my back and turning my head so I had to get vocal.  Did I want to?  No.  Never.  But I was pushed.  She quit trying and we read a couple books and I thought the morning was going more my way.  Leisurely, you know?  Then she put me in my chair.  Again with the force-feeding.  *sighs and shakes head*  The woman can be so lost at times.  She offered me my favorites.  Bananers.  Sweet potaters.  Oaties.  I took a couple spoonfuls of the oaties just to appease her.  All morning it didn't stop.  Eat eat eat eat eat. I mean, I've seen myself in the mirror here- I'm hardly wasting away.  I took my morning nap like a good kiddo ma-griddo.  Got up and there was mom again trying to get me to drink some milk.  I guess she figures that in 8 months there is no conceivable way that I could be sick and tired of milk 3 times a day?  Has she ever thought of that?  I guess not.  We went the same rounds.  All my favorites the oatmeal- I wasn't having it.  Mom started acting a little crazy- calling a bunch of people telling them I wouldn't eat.  I know she's worried my cheeks are just going to melt right off my face if I don't eat.  Gaaaawwww-lee.  After she calmed down we went to the Post Office and came home.  I played a little, jumped in my horse and then I was ready for my afternoon snoozer.  I got up about a quarter to 6. 

And ate. 
Mom and Dad are always raving about breakfast for dinner.  I wanted to try it.

9 to 5

Check out the bubbles, babe.  I'm still a soaker.  I had a mild splashing phase.  It lasted about a week. 

But I like to lounge, soak, and re-lax. 

I am never in a rush to go anywhere.  

I live life in the slow lane. 

I soak it up as it comes.

And, boy, does it feel nice.