Furry Murry Chris Moose

I spent some time at Goomba's recently and I indulged in a very rich diet. By rich, I mean whatever I wanted and plenty of it, so you can be sure my diapeys of late have been the stinkiest of adventures. Some of my new pajamas have already needed extra trips to the laundry. That's right I got new pajamas! There are a lot of new things in the house all because of crissmus!

While I was at Goombas I got a haircut, during naptime, so the results were interesting. I said I wanted to look like Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber, but instead they made me look like one of the Eloi from the 1960 film, The Time Machine starring Rod Serling, or was it Rod Taylor, gah either way I looked out of place.

One is obviously a silly haircut, the other is awesome!

When I came back from Goomba's, we all went to church and apparently so did everybody else because there was no place left to sit. That suits me fine as I don't really sit down at church anyway. Dadda chased me around as I wove in and out strangers' legs and plotted a route to best perform reconnaissance. The water fountain was my primary objective as well as the stool which allowed me access to the fountain itself. However after one jaunt into the crowds, I found upon my return, some girl had moved the stool and was standing on top of it for the wrong fountain!
I had to take matters into my own hands, but Dadda stopped me just before I was able to yank the stool out from under the girl so I could put it back. I was very upset. Once we got home, they tried to stall dinner again, but I made sure I got fed before everyone else. When the rest of the family and grandparents had eaten, we did something rather odd. Many boxes wrapped in paper were brought into the living room and set in front of me. Then the fun began. 

I got to rip open the packages and play with everybody's stuff. Fortunately for everyone else, some things distracted me long enough for others to get away with goods of their own to keep. Bubbas kept talking about getting to bed in time for Sandra Klause. Oh no! I didn't want that guy coming to my house. I've already seen him and I have the pictures that prove it!

The next morning, Bubbas were very excited to go downstairs. It turns out there were more wrapped presents to open for me, even though some had other people's names on them. You know what else? That letter that Bubbas forged for me was answered! Apparently the guy from the mall did come by with my Potato Head doll and an awesome puzzle, not to mention everybody else's toys and clothes for me to play with. I'm good at ripping open packages, after all I'm a licensed CPA (Certified Parcel Assistant). 

My record for unwrapping all of these packages is 2.3 seconds!

Many guests came and went during this crissmuss occasion. I've come to appreciate some of the finer points of verbal communication. For example a good scream goes a long way. "Mmmaaaaa!" is a decent way to request just about anything, and people love it when you say "buh bye." The only thing is, I wonder why it's so important to say "buh bye" and wave to people once they're out of sight. That is when you're supposed to do it, right?

Today I am bathing in unfiltered bliss, content.

Borders, Books and Musics

Today I woke up after a stinky dream. As the dream faded all I could recall was a sense of something precious being taken from me and still dreary eyed and sleepy I fought back against Dadda as he forced me to get a clean butt. Even my Babba was not consolation enough for my furious fit of fear. In exasperation and perhaps clarity Dadda gladly plopped me back in my crib until I regained composure. Sure enough after five minutes of screaming I gained enough consciousness to realize I was awake and there was a cold Babba in my crib with me. Ah the beauty of a morning nap.

This past weekend when I woke up from a nap, late in the afternoon, we went outside to play. For some reason Dadda's idea of playing was putting colored lights on the roof while Mamma and Bubba's chased me around the yard and kept me out of the street. Now I know I'm not supposed to go in the street. We yell a lot in this family. We yell to be heard, we yell for excitement, we yell to break tension and because sometimes it's just too darn quiet. But you know when a yell serves a serious purpose and whenever I try to go into the street I get one of those yells and I hang my head low and come back from the glorious promise of freedom and blackened asphalt.

That's when I got to thinking about boundaries. We've got gates on the stairs, both up and down, curiously confounding covers on the doorknobs and even the doggie door is taped shut, although they recently had to upgrade from packing tape to ducky tape since I deftly demonstrated dastardly dexterity and escape artistry. In other words, walls can't hold me! Donkey Kong's got nothing on me! But. . .I feel safe, I guess. They've recently tied the fridge door shut with some stretchy cord, which gives me the illusion of opening, but then slams shut with barely a glimpse of the chilled treats.

They also put up a regiment of shoulders (Bubba's or Mamma's) whenever the oven door is open, warning me about the hotness. This is one of my new words, "haaa." Now allow me to explain, there are two kinds of "haaa" there's the "haaa" for food that hurts when I grab it and then there's the "haaa" when I put something in my mouth that makes my tongue hurt, like Dadda's weird pickles he doesn't let me eat.  Dadda calls that other "haaa" pica or spicy. I called it forbidden deliciousness.

 

 

 

Haaa!

A few new books have been added to my bookshelf. Really scary stuff about people feeding babies to barn animals at night, snow monsters in top hats and some drunken red-nosed reindeer named Adolph or something, oh and my friend Sandra Klause. This guy is a celebrity, all my favorite shows are about him and these other scary things and don't get me started on the music. This girl named Carol apparently is a famous songwriter because lately all we've listened to are different versions of the same songs over and over again. All this weirdness must serve a greater purpose because everyone seems happier and and looking forward to crissmuss vacation. I, however, am nervous about the upset in my routine. Perhaps a promised potato head toy will soothe my frustration, when's that getting here?

Today I am haaa spicy!

Sandra Klause

Today I woke up and started a new project. No, I'm not talking about the contents of my diapey, that is an on-going project scheduled for consecutive release now and later in a diapey near my butt! I'm talking about my construction project under the kitchen table.

Now there has always been two big yellow Tonka dump-trucks in front of the sealed up fire cage as long as I can remember. These were usually used for storing dinosaurs and sword-guns. Bubbas use the latter to make sounds at each other and fall down, at which point I pin them to the ground and bounce on their face and stomach with a stinky diapey. Dadda uses them to shoot little green balls at me and Bubbas and I use them to wack things or people depending on my disposition.

However, the other day Dadda was hyped up on an extra hour of sleep, something like six hours as opposed to five, I guess, and he decided to race me around the kitchen in the back of the dump-trucks. We were going so fast! At this point several things occurred to me. One, these things don't handle very well and Dadda's gonna crash eventually, which he did consistently after he ran out of gas. Fortunately he prepared a mountain of pillows as a crash site. B) There is a great potential for transporting objects in the back of these things such as toys and bubbas! Seven, (I can't count yet) you mean to tell me that these things don't have to stay in front of the fire cage?!

That evening in my crib I drafted the blueprints and dreamed of elaborate construction sites and talking tools. The next day as I was hauling away cobwebs and old pizza crusts from the construction site, Dadda scooped me up and said we were going to see Sandra Klause. I've heard a lot about this person in recent days so I know it's not Dadda's lady friend or anything like that, but still I didn't comprehend the fuss.

As it happens Sandra Klause is not a woman, she's an old man, and to top it all off, this isn't the first time we've met!

This is the guy.

When Mamma turned the house into some crazy electric forest and put giant socks up on the bookshelf, she also put up photographic evidence of my previous encounter with this oddly named character. I don't remember if it ended well or not so I reserved judgment. We picked up Mamma and Bubbas and went to see him again. Bubbas forged a letter on my behalf with the potato head doll that I wanted and I insisted I would make requests on my own through his Facebook page, but they had already colored it for me so. . .

Apparently the objective was to get near this guy while he asked us what we wanted for crissmus. Then they took our picture, evidently to prove that we know him to other people and then he gave me a small candy cane. I love peppermint flavored shapes, cane or otherwise! When we arrived I scouted out an escape route and Dadda caught me, so I was forced to choose an alternate route after I received my candy cane, but I stopped running once I realized the candy was permanently sealed in that teasingly transparent container.

Now we have another picture to put under the teevee and I got candy before dinner. Overall not the worst day.

I'm gonna make a run for it bee!

Today I am childproofed all minty fresh!

Turkey, Trains and Trees - Conclusion

Well I feel sorry for Dadda today. Last night he needed a diapey instead of living in the potty because his tummy hurt. He spend the whole day on the couch, which is twice as much time as he usually spends there. Mamma had to take over diapey dooty, (hee hee) among other things while Dadda remained immobile and immovable.

I guess Mamma was pretty upset by Dadda's illness because she went plumb nutz and started bringing in ginormous boxes from the garage and re-arranging everything in the dining room for what I presumed was some kind of arts and crap project. No, I was wrong, just like everybody else in this family, myself included, she took to playing God and decided to build a tree in the house instead of just going outside. I tell you, these people will do anything to avoid the outdoors, that's where I'm free to get candy from neighbors and also there are slides sometimes.

This project took the better part of the day, which is where god-like skills come up short in comparison to the real thing. Wait, how long do the other trees take to build? Never mind, I guess I'm just blogging out of my diapey. Anyway, in what can only be described as one-upmanship in the face of creation, after she built the tree, indoors mind you, she thought she'd improve upon the idea by adding lights to it. I left her to it, as I'm sure lightning will strike any minute.  Then it got worse. When evening arrived Mamma and Bubbas started putting toys on the tree that no one was allowed to play with!


Well so far, no one has been stricken with boils or locusts, unless you count Dadda's isolated illness that preceded the "tree-building" event, perhaps as some sort of prognosticating plague of prophecy. In either way, this activity, this indoor affront to nature, which now lights up as if on some sort of pre-determined schedule better have some sort of pay-off.


Meanwhile, instead of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and other educational programs, we watched three separate versions of the same story involving Mickey, Muppets and finally Magical realism. (sorry I ran out of "M" words) Well I learned a simple truth about life from this Crissmus Carol, although there were no people named Carol, just a reoccurring "Screwed" character, one of which was played by a duck, my favorite! This Crissmus is an annual tradition, a concept I have no knowledge, not Crissmus, but the word annual. Anyway Crissmus is the time to see ghosts, play with Puppets from Sesame Street and visit people in your pajamas and bring them a giant chicken. Mmm chicken. Either way count me out. I'll have none of it and that tree is still freaking me out.

Now, what's all this talk about this German girl named Sandra Klause?

Today I am close-minded trying new things! 

Turkeys, Trains and Trees (Part 2)

After the dreaded day of turkey and interrupted routines, the lack of educational teevee was starting to have a deleterious effect on my normally stellar patter and patois. With a freshly cleaned butt I came downstairs and got in a few hours of Disney Channel before Mamma disappeared and I eventually went down for a nap.

When I awoke, Bubbas had evidently risen to the status of god-like architectural awesomeness and engineering excellence! They has somehow constructed a massive super structure of tracks, trees and trains that seemed to drive of their own accord! If I had known they had these abilities I would've had them construct me a pillow maze or at least a more reliable hidey-hole network, one that is not constantly invaded by small rodent-like dogs or compromised by large movie disc wallets and errant remote controls.

Well I quickly assumed my roll in this new world as the inevitable, but largely necessary attacking monster or daikaiju as they say in Japan. 

Some of the tracks were not up to code, so I removed them so that the quality control lead could inspect them and a few of the trains were not running on time, so I moved them manually to their appointed destinations, even if said destination was on a piece of track which had already been removed for inspection. It's really a standard practice for baybees in my position and demands a great deal of respect. As a matter of fact, the adults needed to keep reminding the older kids that I was in charge whenever they would protest my actions. I simply told them in language they apparently did not understand, that if they had a problem with the way I worked they would need to take it up with the project lead or stick their complaints in the complaint box. (see diapey)

Then I noticed that there were strangers in my house, other kids and other adults, which I had not noticed previously on account of the new discovery in my living room. I didn't bother to learn their names, but the younger kid, Mawcus I believe, stated that he did not want a little brother anymore. Fine, I don't want another older brother either, too much responsibility. We went on a walk and these people all ran ahead of me and Dadda. I checked with Dadda to make sure that we did say we were going on a "Walk" and not an "Awkward Jog" but he just rolled his eyes.


Once it got cold and dark enough, (as soon as we arrived at the park) it was time to head home, so sure enough these people ran off with Bubbas leaving me and Dadda to troll our way through the cold winter night. I gladly went to bed, my head filled with dreams of metropolitan destruction and giant mechanized versions of me and / or giant moth opponents. 


Today I am a misunderstood monster cute and creative!

Turkeys, Trains and Trees (Part 1)

So it would seem the "Hollow Day" season is upon us. Whatever, I still plan on sticking to my routine, hollow days or not. I vow to poop, and wake-up no matter what changes you throw at me, and guess what? You're changing my diapey or else it won't just be changes thrown around. I'm part monkee you know!

Take last week for example, seriously. If I was capable of retaining memories at an adult level of detail, I'd rather just forget this week-long interruption of my scheduled activities. For starters, Mamma and Bubbas were home, which is actually nice, as long as they don't interrupt my stories or snack/nap times. They are all well aware that any attempts to subvert the practices and policies in this establishment will result in a snuggle-fight they won't soon forget. There are still visible bruises from the last time, believe you me!


Well no sooner then my adaptation to change, Goomba shows up and spends the night after taking Mamma away on some grocery run I wasn't allowed to attend. Allowed, permitted, discouraged, something like that. I just know I saw them leave. Ha! Object permanence or not, one minute they're standing there pointing at objects behind me and commanding Bubbas to distract me and the next minute they're gone, past shoe room, into the car closet and out of my life forever! Forever relative to my baybee mind, that is.


The next day Goomba takes me and Bubbas to her house for a couple of days and let me tell you what happened next!

-INFORMATION REDACTED- AWAIT IMMINENT RELEASE OF DETAILS ON WIKILEAKS-

What a trip, let me tell you, I'll never forget that zebra! Anyway when we arrived back home the house smelled delicious and Dadda was watching football instead of Special Agent Oso! How dare he! Then to top it all off, they wouldn't let me eat! The nerve! I did my best to distract myself, but with no educational teevee and the delicious smells abound, I was forced to kick it into a low level temper tantrum mode which I slowly escalated into a level four just to drive home the effect. It's important to remember not to switch your tantrum from a higher level into a lower one while in progress or else you'll strip the gears which could result in failure or bluff detection, not to mention added maintenance on parental sensor modules.

So I ate my meal before everybody else and I said thanks for giving me food early which is why I heard everyone breathe a sigh of relief and say "Happy Thanksgiving!"

Today I am sedated stuffed.

 

Have nap, will travel.

Today I woke up ready for a diapey change. It must be said that I am in favor of being green. Of course, I turn all sorts of colors based on what foods I am given, either by painting my face and hands with said food, or the contents of my diapey with said food. However, in regards to being environmentally conscious i.e. "green" I will continue to wear the pants I just pooped in, provided the diapey is changed before the pants become a permanent vessel of the accompanying odor. Therefore, less laundry. Green.

Well Dadda spent some time on the phone this morning while I helped myself to the Cheerio buffet on my tray along with an nice selection of 2010 H-E-B Marketplace Apple Juice. Se magnifique! Before I knew it, Dadda had me in my crib so he could shower and get ready for the day. Luckily he left me with my V-Tech Phone to call for help. Instead I got wrangled into some sort of spy game involving a coded message or something. At least that's my best guess from all the letters and numbers the overly excited voice kept talking about. 

So, once I was dressed and packed for this outing. I stood whining by the door like a puppy while he got his stuff ready, and then we were in the car. Now, I can only withstand so much car watching before I skip the boring part and close my eyes only to awake at the intended destination, although sometimes I awake at the stop light/sign just before the intended destination. Naps are the best way to travel, I highly recommend it. However, when you're driving, it is not allowed, that's why Mamma always smacks Dadda when he tries to skip ahead like me when he's behind the wheel.


Well, to my surprise we arrived and Goomba and Goompa's. No sooner had we arrived, did Dadda disappear. Sneaky! Well, Goomba put me in a jacket and I went outside, then the sun came out and the jacket came off and I went off to see what mischief I could make. Did you know that I am one of the industry leaders in mischief manufacturing and distribution? Here's my business card.

I collected figgies from the figgy tree, did a perimeter check of the garden and outlying areas, tested the security by escaping through both gates repeatedly and did a safety inspection from the top of a twelve-foot ladder. I give their outfit an overall grade of "B", although that grade may be inflated due to the quality of love and snacks. After terrorizing the dog by offering to carry the tired pooch, I decided it was time for dinner. Within minutes everyone within my grasp or ear-shot was also aware of this fact.


Goomba dutifully lovingly whipped together some delicious grub, after-which I needed a bath to wash off the potatoes. No sooner did I create a schedule of evening activities did Dadda return to take me home. I bid my fond farewells, strapped in and briefly admired the traffic lights and the night sky before skipping ahead to my very own bed.


Today I am networking playful!

Nice to meat me!

I am a purveyor of poop and my customers, Mamma and Dadda, like something with easy clean-up. That's why I've come to welcome a diet high in protein. Nothing says easy clean up like, literally, solid waste! With a regular diet of fiber in addition to protein, my daily diaper changes are no pain in the butt!


Giggie, and Owah came over for the weekend. Wait, it's come to my attention that some people may need a glossary for some of my terminology. Baybee vernacular can be hard to digest for the uninitiated. So, I've asked the fluff to help put something together, here goes.

bab•ba
[bah-buh,]

–noun, plural -babbas.

1. My bottle or the container which holds my beverage.
2. Mine, or not yours.

bub•ba
[buh-buh,]

–proper noun, plural -bubbas.

1. One or both of my brothers and occasionally a dog or a stranger.

dia•pey
[dye-pee,]

–noun, plural -diapies.

1. Thing what I poop in.
2. Thing you have to change sooner rather than later.

dad•da
[dah-duh,]

–proper noun.

1. The guy what takes care of me during the day.
2. Mine, or not yours.

the fluff
[thu-fluhf,]

–proper noun.

1. The big white dog, formally known as Mishka, or mischee.

gig•gie
[gihg-ee,]

–proper noun,

1. My Uncle Aggie, or Alex, who graduated from Texas A&M, which makes him an “Aggie”.

goom•ba
[goom-bah,]

–proper noun.

1.    Mamma’s mamma.

goom•pa
[goom-pah,]

–proper noun.

1. Mamma’s Dadda

gram•pa
[gram-pah,]

–proper noun.

1. Dadda’s Dadda.

josh•e•bear
[josh-ee-bair,] joshie bear, baybee

–proper noun.

1. Thing what the universe revolves around.
2. Rumor has it the “E” stands for “Elizabeth”

mam•ma
[mah-muh,]

–proper noun,

1. The lady what takes care of me whenever Dadda gets away from me.
2. see – notdadda

mi•mi
[mee-mee,]

–proper noun.

1. Dadda’s Mamma

not•dad•da
[not-dah-duh,]

–proper noun, adjective.

1. Any person, other than Dadda who tries to take care of me.

o•wah
[oh-wah,]

–proper noun.

1. My uncle Noah, I don’t do consonants.

the•small
[thu-smahl,]

–proper noun.

1.    The small white and black dog that chases me when I chase her.
2.    “Scout”


tee•vee
[tee-vee,]

–noun, plural -teevees.

1. Baby sitter for when Dadda’s asleep on the couch.
2. Thing what distracts Bubbas


Okay that's all the time we have for today. If there are any other words which require clarification please register and leave a comment or some barbecue please.


Today I am megagaltastic happy!

Josh Dance by Baby Babba

Today I woke up with the family and, got mah poop changed, watched them leave, and felt like dancing. There are so many shows on for kids these days that encourage dancing and movement. Dadda prefers the shows where he only moves from the recliner to the kitchen, and back. 

I was born to dance. When I was much younger, I preffered standing to snuggling and bouncing to standing still. Dadda and Mamma made up a song called, "Dansu Baby". It went something like this.

Dansu dansu baybee, dansu dansu dansu dansu, (repeat indefinitely)

It's no surprise that months later I still enjoy a little moovin' and groovin'. So here are the lyrics to my latest single, you can find it on my hit CD, Josh's 5th movement! not Available in stores now!

I poot a little bit too much (much)
All of the bubbas start to wrest (start to wrestle!)
Why does my bootie dance?
Can’t find my babba man, Where are my snax?
I lost my pants!

What’s goin’ on on the floor?
I love this baybee music
But I can’t walk straight anymore
Watch the drool.
What’s the name of this song?
I just don't care no mo, its alright, I’m alright

Josh dance!
Gonna be okay
Da da doo doo
Josh dance!
Spin that baby, hey

Da da doo doo
Josh dance!
Gonna be okay
Josh Josh dance, dance
J-J-Josh dance!

 Today I am waiting for my royalty check musical!

Soggy Bottom Boy

Today I woke up and and saw the family going about their daily routine. I pooped for Dadda, at the usual time, but Mamma got me up instead. I can't quite explain it, but everybody seems to be up earlier and Dadda is grumpy because it's too late for me to go back to sleep. I heard him say something about "Daylight Savings," but, personally, I'm a spender. I always say, "Use it or lose it." I also say, "If I had four wheels I'd be a wagon!", but I digress.

Dadda took me to the park today. I'm enjoying these walks, but the weather doesn't seem to make up its mind. One moment it's raining and cold, the next it's hot. How is a baby supposed to maintain a consistently color-blind fashion sense if the outfits constantly have to adjust to the weather? Anyway, Dadda dressed me up in some sweat pants and packed my babba in the stroller. . . and nothing else. 


When we got to the park, the rain from the night before had not yet dried up. So in the hidden parts of the playscape, in the tunnels and the bottom of the slide, little puddles remained. You know, it's always when you're unprepared that these little events happen. I'm surprised people haven't figured out how to manipulate these events in their favor. For example, if I want something sticky and messy to eat, I just need to remember to take the bib out of the diaper bag. Or if I want to get free from a diaper change, I need to hide the wipeys.


Well one trip through the moistened gauntlet and down the slide and I had quite the soggy bottom. One could be forgiven if they thought I had an "accident" but it was Dadda who had accidentally forgot a change of clothes. But, he's not as dumb as he looks. The sun drenched slide worked quite well as a make-shift dryer. So I found myself going down the slide until, at least, my butt was dry. Then Dadda wrapped me in his jacket for the ride home. What a day!

Today I demonstrated perseverance am a little trooper!


 

A vote for me is a vote for candy

Today I woke up late and usually when I wake up I take a babba a diapey change and go back down for little nap before I get my day started. However today Dadda put me back in my crib and I decorated my room with the items in my crib instead of napping and then whined for release.

Today is election day! We'll get to that later. Mamma made me a costume. I was R2-D2! 

I know who this is, because he is the only Star Wars character that speaks my language. Everybody understands me (him) whenever he (I) beep and boop and yet they speak plain English to him (me) and yet (almost) everybody understands him (me).

 

Now I love a good game of dress up. I can often be found with a pair of sunglasses and anything on a string dangling from my neck, perhaps even a lei if the mood strikes me. However, this game of dress-up had some serious perks! Me and Bubbas (not pictured) took an evening stroll door to door and, I guess, begged for candy. Now normally begging is the lowest form of wage earning, and I'm sure Dadda can afford his own candy, I mean, we had a whole bowl of it back at home, so I'm mystified as to the purpose of it all. 

So back to election day. Dadda took me to vote. I thought we were going on a walk because he packed the diaper bag with snax and got the stroller out, but instead we went to some school with a bunch of peoples with signs and then Dadda played on some big computer screen and I got a sticker. It didn't taste very good in case you were wondering. Well, the point of voting is to pick the least whiniest candidate from the teevee commercials and tell them to stop making commercials. If I was on teevee I wouldn't whine, I promise! As a matter of fact, I would promise to do something about this candy begging thing and make costumes mandatory for all government assistance at every level and make candy abundant and plentiful for all!

Now where are my malted milk balls?!

My name is Josh and I approve this post.

RSVBaby

Let me tell you about a daily ritual, and no it's not my poop. Okay, yes I know poop is a daily ritual, or activity. Maybe ritual is not the right word, however no one can argue against the apparent reverence in which a stinky diapey is given. No one wants to touch it, every one averts their eyes and noses and after the diapey is wrapped and sealed in a special bag within a bag, the place where it goes is called a Genie.
 
I'm off-topic aren't I? Okay well every morning Dadda turns on the teevee and the first thing we watch is the dancin' lady. Dadda laughs out loud and then we get up and dance. The dancin lady, her name is Ellen, makes me and Dadda smile and dance every morning. Sometimes there are kids on her show and pretty ladies and silly people, but not enough babies! 

 
 
 
Note to self: write the Ellen show and request more babies as guests, or even better, guest hosts! Although she never seems to have a guest host, I wouldn't mind being the first. If not I could substitute and be a guest deejay. I love pushing buttons and making people move, it's just usually across the room to grab the remote out of my hand or to prevent me from making a mess. Lastly I guess I could be an on-the-spot reporter. I'll create a segment called "Baby Talk" and I'll ask random strangers to figure out what I'm asking for through a series of grunts, whines and arbitrary gestures. Fun and entertaining!
 
After Ellen, we watch what's left of the grocery show, as Dadda frequently pauses the teevee to attend to my demands needs. Perhaps this grocery show, it's called The Price is Right, is why we go to the grocery store once a week. Personally I like the show better than the actual place, but then again no one on the show has a container of snacks, so I guess the actual grocery store is better. Dadda tries to work while I'm distracted with toys, so he doesn't get much work done. 

So after some "educational time", where Dadda repeats words and points at toys and gets frustrated, he puts on educational teevee with Mickey Mouse! Oddly enough Mickey also repeats himself and points at shapes and colors. Then Dadda tries to work again while I'm distracted by Mickey, so he doesn't get much work done. Finally he gives up and tries to play video games, so I grab an extra controller and beat the game, or so I think when he screams and chases me. Lastly he tries once more and I turn off the TV and/or climb behind him and try to push him off of the recliner.
 
That's when Dadda decides it's time for lunch and a nap!

Today I am encourageable incorrigible!

Bubba Jump!

The things that bother adults are amusing to us toddlers. Take for example waking up in the middle of night to the light from the hallway and a surprise inspection by Mamma. Somebody got sick and she assumed it was me, when right behind her, from the top bunk and all the way down to the floor was the evidence to the contrary and so Bubba stayed home with me the next day.


When I woke up and got my diapey changed, Bubba was downstairs playing video games with the volume off. Video games are where you point a remote at the teevee and sometimes make Bubbas and Daddas scream when they don't realize they've left out a controller. I love pushing buttons, but people buttons are the best, especially belly buttons, or belly holes as I've mentioned previously.


Once I noticed Bubba was home with me I decided to celebrate. I immediately dumped out the Lego Duplos and my bucket of KidKraft Tasty Treats and McDonald's pretend play food all over the floor. I screamed with joy, but Bubba did not join me. So after spreading the mess around in order to achieve a good toy to carpet ratio, I decided to initiate play on my own. I pulled Bubba off the couch and played Bubba Jump! This is a great game with only one rule and one victor, me!

Instructions for Bubba Jump®

 Setup - Remove all pieces from resting place or standing position and place on game board i.e. floor.


Taking turns - The youngest baby named Josh goes first. After ensuring Bubba is in position and unable to move from a combination of wrestling moves or unbearable stinkiness from diapey, the player proceeds to jump up and down on Bubba.


Winning - The first player, named Josh, to incapacitate and jump on Bubba wins!


Reset the board and play again!

Today I am against consolation prizes a gracious winner!

Delay of Game

The passing of time can be measured by expected and familiar events. For example, Dadda knows that in the morning I will have poop waiting for him. Just the other day I had a "situation" waiting for him. After clean-up I was ready to start the day. The next day Dadda decided we would go to the grocery store first thing in the morning. However, he remembered the previous day's "situation" and thought it would be better to avoid something similar in a public place.

So when I woke up there was no poop. After the day prior I guess I just got it all out of my system, over a period of five movements, like a symphony! Stay tuned for Josh's fifth symphony in a Diaper Genie near you! 

Click the picture for animation

Anyway, Dadda was a bit mystified by the lack of routine, but insisted we wait until after I did my business before we would leave to run our errands. The morning dragged on and turned to midday and still no poop. Dadda watched me in frustration. Here I was dressed and ready to go out, and so was he. The diaper bag was packed, the snacks were ready and the grocery bags were loaded in the car. Time ticked by and like a watched baby's diapey, nothing happened.

We never made it to the grocery store that day.

Today everything went as scheduled, poop and all, and the grocery store was our destination. Dadda packed up my breakfast in a to-go container. It was beautiful, all layered and filled with variety. The bottom layer was Multi-Grain Cheerios, then Sunkist Fruit snacks and finally a Nutri-Grain Bar bought in bulk by Goomba from Costco cut into eights like I prefer. And the whole thing was cleverly put in a container to keep me from spilling, although Dadda needs something to help him from spilling when he fills the container. Luckily he has me and the fluff to come scoop up the rouge Cheerios from the floor.

We left early and Dadda handed me my breakfast bowl and he placed his coffee in the cup holder of the cart. First we stopped to pickup a prescription, and a nice man with his arm in a sling, let us go in front of him. I was afraid we would get lost, so even though the container was spill proof, I still could drop random pieces throughout the store in order for us to find out way out, and that's just what I did. 

By the time we reached the register, once again cutting unintentionally in front of the man with his arm in a sling, I was done with my snacks and ready to help Dadda put groceries on the moving table. You could tell which grocery items I helped with by the stickiness.

Dadda loaded me into the car and the man with his arm in a sling just so happened to be parked next to us and had to wait for me to get into my seat before he could get into his car.

Instead of leaving once he got into his car, I heard the one-armed man yell into his cell phone, "It was not me it was the sticky baybee!"

Today I am an agent of chaos adorable!

Delicious Dishes

Today Dadda was happy to change a normal diaper as opposed to the explosive type as seen in days previous. He attempted to put me back in my crib so he could presumably play with all my toys or sleep more, probably the former, but I put my baby foot down with a stern whine.

Dadda's not as dumb as he looks since my cries and whines have begun to go ignored lately. Darn, I guess I'll need to work on those communication skills, either that or buy that mountain climbing harness I saw on the internet so I can get the candy from the top shelf of the pantry. I can do it myself!

Speaking of people who need help, Dadda always asks me to help when I come by and he's putting things away. Sure, I know where things go. Boring things go where he tells me to, or in a pile near the place he pointed. Shiny things go in my hidey hole for future play. Now, I know Dadda likes to be independent, (he gets it from me) but even a tasty distraction like a generic fruit and grain cereal bar cut into eighths like I prefer, still can't keep me away from a clean dishwasher. Sure enough I helped Dadda take out silver ware, which he promptly put back in the dishwasher with the other dirty dishes since anything I touched was now covered in mixed berry fruit filling.

Dadda left out an "empty" cereal box and I taught him the true meaning of the word "empty" by happily consuming the cereal dust by pouring as much as I could in my mouth. The rest ended up on the recliner. So, Dadda went out to the garage for the hand-held vacuum. That thing's loud! I hid in the laundry room. While I was in there I found my diaper-bag and in it was my to-go container filled with actual cereal, not just dust. Once Dadda replaced the vacuum, I poured Cheerios on the floor and showed him how I clean up messes. One by one I ate the Cheerios, but I had to compete with the fluff as she could eat them faster than me. Dadda was satisfied with my cleaning methods and decided to leave the vacuum in the garage this time.


Today I am calculating a quick learner!

Port Man Toe

Today I woke up and life seemed back to normal. This is in complete contrast to the time since my last post. There were many diaper changes, and many sheet changes as a vicious virus swept through the entire family and necessitated many sheet changes and naps with snuggle buckets and special pillow cases. Oh what fun to have the family home to participate, (more like interrupt) in my daily routines.


This time with Mammas and Bubbas, in addition to the usual fixture of Dadda, was akin to a staycation. Bleh! Worst. Stay-cation. Ever. My room smelled like a zoo for sick animals and I still haven't taken a bath in the washing machine yet! Bubbas had to run to the bathroom many times and every time I followed all I got was yelled at or a door slammed in my face.


My usual efforts to attack any and all napping adults were thwarted by excessive medication and all my toys needed to be decontaminated. Left to my own devices I entertained my self with random cups and bowls from the cabinet and video game controllers.


Desperate for attention I whined constantly to no avail and in the end resorted to hacking my Vtech Tote and Go laptop to scream like a digital monkey stuck in a loop. Dadda took out the batteries. Oh, and also my LeapFrog: My Pal Scout puppy thinks he's a DJ since his last trip to the laundry since he keeps scratchin' and barking at me whenever I press his buttons.  

Speaking of buttons, why do they call it a belly button? Not everybody has a button, some people have a hole. Dadda's can swallow my whole finger when I'm brave enough to stick it in there and Mamma always giggles like crazy when I look for hers. Regardless of buttons or holes, all tummies love raspberries. So my advice to everyone is find the nearest tummy and give it a raspberry for guaranteed fun for all!

Today I am neurotic a special little guy!

Sickie-Poo

So I spent the weekend at Goomba and Goombas with my bubbas. I don't like waking up and pooping in a new place. However after going without for a whole day, I finally relented and boy howdy! Eww, I know, but hey nobody likes change or excessive amounts of broccoli.

I was so glad to be back in my own crib I nearly exploded with joy, that or a touch of a stomach bug. Mamma is home sick with me and Dadda today, but Dadda was outside doing yardwork so Mamma gave me a morning bath and all my stufties also had to take a bath in the washing machine. One of these days I'm going to take a bath in there, I know it. I figure one day my parents will get lazy enough, it's just a matter of time. My stufties came out of the dryer and they regaled me with tales of spin-cycles and dryer balls as well as some adventure in the land of lost socks and spare change.

I had some apple-wedges and some water. The 'rents got me on a restrictive diet cause they say I don't feel well, but I feel perfectly fine. I need to sleep now. . .

Ah, ok, well I heard Dadda say I'm a BRAT, or at least that's why he's only feeding me Bananas, Rice, Apple-sauce and Toast so my tummy doesn't get upset. Well I think he's a JERK because I'd rather be having Jello, Enchiladas, Rice (Spanish) and, um. . .Kangaroo! I don't think I've ever had kangaroo, but I'm sure it tastes like bear.


Well I guess I'm feeling better, see I told you! I need another nap. . .

Today I am sick and tired of being sick and tired recuperating!

Food Schtuffs

So THE average Dadda does NOT realize the importance of wipey BOX rotation in daily maintenance. This is WHY he was frantic when he RAN out of wipeys when my butt WAS only 83.3% clean this morning. Of course the FULL wipey box of the same color was NOW in its newly rotated location, thanks to me. Note: there is no WAY to leave an incomplete diaper change FOR extra supplies without the average baby escaping, and I'm not even an average baby! 


I had peanut butter puff cereal and raisins FOR breakfast, but Dadda wouldn't leave me the box. So after some ignored fussing and creative furniture re-purposing, I HAD said raisin box in my possesion. Although there where already plenty of raisins on my tray, it's important to know that the location of food is KEY in achieving the optimal flavor and consistency. Sure food on a clean tray is fine, but YOU just can't get the same flavor as floor snax, or for that matter couch cushion bits and for the real gourmand, under the fridge crunchies!

I have to admit I learned about the last one from the doggies. They know the value of a WELL aged piece of DOG food warmed by the fridge and covered in a moistened BIT of dust and age. Mmmmm-mmmm! I like feeding the dogs treats, sometimes their OWN designated treats and food, but especially my left-unders. I leave them under my high chair and the kitchen table or anywhere I happen to be when I've decided to convert my snack from nourishment to entertainment.


Today I would like to discuss existentialism in the age of modern toys. You see I was playing with my Leap Frog Word Whammer which lets me spell three letter words. (I used it to verify the speeling for this entry actually!) Obviously this is child's play for someone with my extended vocab-u-baby. (Is that TOO much of a pun? WHO cares!) Anyway, I usually spell important words like, "KPM", "PPG" and ETC. . .but I happened to PUT in "GOD" and the the TOY wouldn't even acknowledge the word. It only pronounced the individual letters. HRM? That's weird considering on my LeapFrog Fridge Farm Magnetic Animal SET I'm allowed to play GOD by combining unnatural forms of farm animals such as PIG-sheep and COW-ducks. . .

Today I am ironic funny!

Helpy Helperton

I love to help, so when Dadda tried to change me today I was ready to hand him wipeys. However, they were too hard to reach from where I was lying while getting the diaper change so I had to move, and so Dadda didn't appreciate my help as much as I thought he should.

Mamma has a drawer in the bathroom with all kinds of cool stuff. There's little brushes for your hair, I guess, and lot's of chap sticks. She usually let's me put on the clear one in the yellow tube with a picture of a bee on it and it makes my lips tingle, but she never lets me try on any of the colors. It's okay I know I look fantastic without it.

I ate strawberries, and eggs with sausage for breakfast. Well, "ate" might not be the right word as I mostly just played with it and drank my juice until Dadda looked too busy to get me out of my chair.

Ever since Dadda got the slide from the garage, I've been using it for everything I can think of. I stand on the top of it and Dadda comes and gets me. I crawl under it when Dadda is chasing me. I make a tent with blankets, but Dadda yells at me when I try to start a campfire. Good thing I have a Coleman propane grill. I also turn it upside down and rock back and forth until it falls over on top of me and smacks me in the head.

You know what, there is a lot on TV these days about medicine and health care. I also see tons of boxes and bottles in places I can't reach and am not allowed to play. Mamma and Dadda are always very sneaky when taking medicine or vitamins so I won't copy them in case I ever get access. They don't have anything to worry about because there's only one cure I need, a kiss on my owies.

I think everybody who needs medicine or health care should skip all the fuss with unsurance and doctors and just get a kiss from their Daddas and Mammas. There problem solved. Let's see what else is in the news. . .oh yeah! There's apparently all kinds of people wrestling in eye rack and afghans for Stan. That's what Dadda calls it when I wrestle with him and he doubles over for a little while. Eye racked him, which is funny because I was nowhere near his eyes. Anyway the simple solution to all the wrestling is. . .nap time. It works for me and bubbas, why not for the rest of the world?

Today I am running for president a creative problem solver!

Pre-Pre Skool

I'm trying to beat my record of three outfit changes before coming downstairs for the day, but today I only tied it. I moistened the waistband on my first outfit, and stunk up my second one. Then I got strawberries on my third, but Dadda was tired of changing me.

For breakfast I had fruit and cheese, and I supplied the whine. Dadda told me that he wanted to get some stuff done before we went on our walk, so he strapped me into my chair because yesterday I sat happily for almost an hour while I grazed. Today though, I just had too much to do also! You see, Dadda and I are in sync, when he's busy, so am I. No rest for the diminutive!

Dadda worked on the computer and I did quality assurance on my Fisher Price Peek-a-blocks. I brought each one to Dadda for him to demonstrate it's proper usage. Then I disassembled and reassembled my Nerf gun, turned it backwards and then smacked the laptop with the butt of the gun and Dadda glared at me. Yup, that one's working just right.

Upstairs in Mamma and Dadda's room I can turn the TV on and off and make the disc drawer open and close, it makes Dadda scream every time. It's pretty easy to train grown-ups, don't let anyone tell you otherwise! Anyway, downstairs the TV is up too high and I haven't mastered stools yet. I keep standing on top of things that either collapse or are concave and then that defeats the purpose. I'm thinking of taking some online classes in advanced elevation and extended grasping, but I've already explained the difficulty in computer access.

If only I could get online with my Vtech Tote & Go Monkey Laptop. Well Dadda says we're going on a walk now, I'll try and pickup some more bird poop if I can.


Today I am persistent diligent!

Left Unders

Today after Dadda cleaned my butt, I allowed him the luxury of taking a shower while I played in my crib. He left me with the odd assortment of books and toys and I left him with the false confidence that this is acceptable.

For breakfast I had apple juice, fruit snax and Teddy Grahams. You know, I think bear is my favorite meat, but I have a real problem with animals that work as mascots for companies that sell food made out of them. Barbecue joints have happy little piggies smiling on the front of the place and the so called "kids menu" usually has a gang of happy little critters who must've sold out their fellow creatures for their own survival. "Hey kids, don't forget to tell mom and dad that you want dessert after you eat one of my friends! If you don't I'm next!"

Sorry I haven't been able to post in a few days. It's really hard to get on the computer when Dadda is using it. You see, I have to wait for that odd moment, like a phone call or some other distraction in order to have access. I usually try to take the laptop away or switch over to my blog whenever he has it open. So now I've taken to creating the distractions and then sneaking over to the laptop when he forgets to put it away.

We went to the grocery store today and Dadda was prepared, he packed me some snacks for when he lingered in the candy aisle for that perfect sugar-free indulgence. Right next to us, however, was another baby eating a bag of organic, vegan "Sunny Bears" from the bulk section. It's fun taking parents to the grocery store!

For lunch Dadda cleaned out the fridge and I had Broccoli, spaghetti and beans. Then later I had poots.

Today I am inimitable a trend setter!