It has been a while since I last posted but not a lot has happened. My cheeks must be getting chubbier, because Mommy will not stop pinching them. The folks took me to the beach again last weekend–sand, sun, more pictures, nothing new there. Neither of them will give up on their favorite outfits even though they’re skin tight on me. I look like a jiggolo in the “Wild About Mommy” onesy.
I have some “professional” pictures coming up this weekend. That’s just what I need–more pictures! This is going to be more annoying than Mommy and Daddy’s pictures because some schmo I’ve never seen before is going to want me in some silly pose. If he asks me to “work it, work it”, I’m outta there. And the folks wonder why I pee on them when they change my diaper. By the way, they are getting better at avoiding it, but I’ve made some strategic changes. I got Mommy last night, and I got Pops twice today.
Speaking of Pops, he thinks I’m going to be a lefty. He bases this on the fact that 90 percent of the time when I punch myself in the face, it’s a left hook. He thinks me being a left-handed pitcher is the ticket to the majors and the easy life. I don’t have the heart to tell him I really have no clue how to use either arm. If I did, I wouldn’t be punching myself in the face 50 times a day.
Things are getting a little hairy around here. Pops has taken this “tummy time” fiasco to a whole new level. He disguises it as me getting stronger in the arms, shoulders and neck so I can turn myself over and eventually crawl, but it’s really his own little torture device he likes to use on me because I don’t go to sleep as fast as he wants me to. Proof of this torture is below. I made it out of the blanket and over the yellow hump for the the first time, but was to pooped to go further.
That’s it for now. I hear Pops coming and he has that “tummy time” look in his eye. Gotta pretend I’m asleep.
Izaak P Mitchell, Esq.