Parole visit

After my close escape from the hospital in this sage green contraption, Daddy realized that my second greatest asset in my escape arsenal -- my small size -- needed to be neutralized. Alas, he used several of my blankets to wedge me in the seat.

I struggled as much as I could to prevent Daddy from locking me into this contraption, but strangely I had no power to prevent him from strapping me in. High on my list of priorities will be mobility research and a strength training regimen so I can effectively resist further indignities.

After being strapped in, I asked if I could drive, but Mommy made simpering noises and began snapping these blackmail photographs.

To make matters even worse, Daddy also added a blanket on top of my head. Joy. At least he finally realized that the family jewels were in danger of some serious chafing and added a crotch blanket. If you haven't kept count, that's FOUR blankets to one baby. Daddy may be a little slow sometimes, but damn if he didn't lock me in tight.

By the way, if I hear one more "Napoleon-complex" comment, you're going on the poopy-list. Suffice to say, you won't enjoy my vengeance. Which I might add is a dish served warm, rather than cold. Make of that what you will.

Speaking of cold. The air outside here in the DC-area is not. Again, the heat and humidity immediately knocked me out. When I came to, I was in a freezing place with children running around screaming. An ominous sign. At least there were parents cooing at me.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

Kids.

Other Parents.

Crap! I've been BETRAYED!!!

Mommy and Daddy have taken me to the Doctor's office. I was weighed, measured, poked, prodded and the obsessive compulsive medical professionals took my temperature. It would serve you right if it was low since you took off all my clothes. I turned red with embarrassment. All was well with my health -- even my temperature. If anyone would have listened to me, they would have known I was fine without the pokes, prods and cold metal surfaces.

Unfortunately, my weight wasn't back up to my birth weight, so I have to come back next week. FRACK. I tried, again, to make a point -- this time that it was unrealistic to expect me to gain 10 ounces in the three days since my escape from the hospital. But Daddy just looked at me funny and changed my diaper. Sigh.