Weekend At The Beach

We had no visitors this past weekend, so, of course, the folks couldn’t resist taking me out to the beach. Hot, windy and sandy seems to be what they like. It wasn’t so bad for me. They put me up in the back of truck and I feel asleep. At least, I was asleep in the times between the thousand pictures that Mommy just had to take. When not taking pictures of me they sat on their fat bottoms and just stared out into space. No surfing, no swimming, not even a walk along the beach. When I get my legs working, I suppose I’ll have to show them how to really have fun at the beach.

The weekend was a pretty good one. Mommy and Daddy finally figured out how to position me when feeding so that I don’t spit up all the boobie milk. They are keeping me at about 140 ml each feeding now to keep me from spitting up. I know I can handle more but they are holding firm for now. I’ll have to put up a bigger fight if this keeps up–gotta feed the machine.  By the way, can someone please tell them that I don’t have to be best friends with the cats and the cats don’t have to be best friends with me. They keep trying to make us like each other and I’m not interested unless they can feed me. And I am sure the cats feel exactly the same way about me.

Otherwise, things are going pretty good. No doctor’s appointments coming up for a while. I’m just working on getting bigger and figuring out how this body is supposed to work. I’m getting a little better at controlling my arms, but I still hit myself in the face too much when I get excited, and I still startle myself when I fart. Not sure if that last one will ever stop because Daddy woke himself up yesterday when he ripped one.

Gotta go. I heard someone say something about a diaper change. Need to pretend I’m asleep.

Izaak P. Mitchell, Esq.

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