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.