Does not contain juice

Spring is in the air. It is the time when a toddler's fancee turns to thoughts of warmer weather and climbing the ropes in my imaginary wrestling ring and landing a pile-driver or my signature wrestling move, the "Joshie Collar Grab" on an unsuspecting victim. Given my Latino heritage, I really should consider wearing a mask and going the route of the conquistador. . .or is that luchador? Either way, I'm either gonna smash you or spread germs and wipe out your family with a cold. Fear me. 

Joshie-Libre seen after his controversial victory over the Bubba Brawlers.

I hear talk about the weather not acting right, but seeing as how Dadda doesn't like going outside, as far as I can tell the weather's always seventy-five degrees, or warmer when Mamma says she's cold and goes and touches the wall and then I wake up sweaty in the middle of the night and climb onto the top bunk so I can perform my signature wrestling move first thing in the morning.

Now I know you've heard me say that I love my routine, but I'm afraid that Mamma and Dadda don't always seem to appreciate how important it is to me as they constantly seem to deviate. I may not know how to read a clock, but I can tell time just fine. I know when it's time for you to feed me and play with me and get me more juice, NOW, and change me and get me more juice, and bathtime and naptime and so on. Oh, and juice time.

So in order to enforce my scheduled activities, sometimes I have to drop subtle hints like smacking you with a preferred toy in order to initiate playtime or stripping down to my diapey when I need a change. However, these tactics sometimes fail to rouse lazy Daddas and Mammas. Let it never be said that I am dependent on others for everything. When push comes to wrestle I can change my self! Sure, it ain't so hard. First you take off the diapey. . .I forget the other steps, but rest assured when I come running around in naught but my skin, someone tends to notice. That, or they notice when they find the wet spot on the carpet that I don't quite understand how it got there. All's I know is it's not juice, well, not anymore.

Disrobing has become such a simple pleasure that I find myself developing some exhibitionistic tendencies. Au natural has become more of a state of being than a transitional cue. I admit I have a problem. One moment I'll be watching "Iggy" Mouse Clubhouse and in the process of an innocent hot dog dance I find myself unable to remember the location of my pants. I'll decide it's bath time and strip down and then realize it's still light out, or that the rest of the family is eating lunch, or that I'm outside on the porch slurping water off the ground by the dog's bowl.


However, I'm happy to say that I've kicked the habit and now I keep my clothes on when appropriate. It's really good to be free of impulsive and addictive behavior. The loss of control is unsettling and it is very frustrating to walk into a room naked and see the mix of laughter and fear as someone inevitably chases me through the house with a pair of pants and a diaper. Well, it's looking like this sippy juice cup is running low and after the bottle of juice in the fridge runs out there's only two other bottles in the pantry. Who's gonna make a juice run, Dadda? Tell Mamma to pick-up some more juice on her way home. Goomba? Hello? This sippy cup isn't gonna fill itself! Why am I naked?


Today I need an intervention am well-hydrated!