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.

First Bath

On my second night home, Daddy decided that I needed a bath. He said that I was starting to smell. Since my umbilical cord hadn't fallen off yet, it was a good old-fashioned sponge bath.

I just knew that I wouldn't like this one bit! So I delivered Mommy and Daddy a double poop just beforehand. But Mommy thwarted my objection by actually catching my poop with a wet wipe. Augh!!! My parents are just too smart.

Daddy did a great job cleaning me despite all my squirming. I tried to tell him that little boys are supposed to be dirty, but it just came out "Whaaa... Whaaa... Snuffle... Whaaa!"

Here's a picture of me post-bath. I am clearly contemplating how I will seek my revenge against such torture in the future. I still think the poop cannon idea is a good one. I think I just need to work on my execution.
They'll never see it coming!

Going Home

Mommy and Daddy were super excited to get to take me home. The nurses put me in Mommy's arms, cut off my house arrest anklet and then sped me downstairs where Daddy had the get-away car ready to go.

As they put me in this sage green contraption, a wall of heat and humidity engulfed my body. I tried to fight it, but I was no match to the typical DC summer weather. Within seconds, I fell asleep.

I don't really remember much from the seven-minute trip home. But I think Mommy and Daddy kept saying something about how small I was.

Taking Over

Last night, some pictures were posted to this blog by some character named "Doug." I don't know who Doug is, but Daddy was playing around with his laptop and some pictures of me. Maybe he sent it to this Doug person? Maybe Daddy has two names? I shall have to investigate this further. In any event, rather than just letting Daddy post whatever pictures he wanted, I took control. It is, after all, my blog.

I told Mommy that she could make posts as well. So far, she hasn't said yes or no. Probably too busy sleeping.