Inside the Palace Gates: I Did Not Get What I Wanted for Christmas

Of course, that is not necessarily true. I will explain more, but I first feel that I should apologize for my Daddy (yet again). He believed that having a ridiculous title would draw more readers, and that other bloggers do it to great success. I explained very eloquently that my readers were too loyal of citizens to require being duped by such ridiculous gags, but he looked at me as if I was speaking gibberish.

What I mean to say is that on the morning of the 25th of December, the only thing that I wanted were the many toys which were given to me in the form of wrapping paper and sacks; all of them, however, were stripped from my fingers. I would be given a gift to open which would be covered in these toys, and I would do just as they asked me to do. I would rip off a small portion and immediately insert it into my mouth to be consumed. Daddy would immediately remove it, and after many repetitions of this very thing, Daddy opened all of my presents for me, and Mommy disposed of all of my toys. I thought she was being absolutely ridiculous, until I discovered that there were more toys inside of the toys. What ludicrous concept! I still do not know why this was the case.

Nevertheless, I still was blessed with many a toy, as can be seen below.

Note: If I appear tired in these pictures, it is because I was very sleepy. My parents awoke me much earlier than I would have liked, at least twenty or thirty minutes early from my typical 12 hours.

This is what they call a stocking. It seems odd that a sock would be decorated so nicely. It was full of blocks. Daddy knows how to make them squeak and blow air in my face, but I only know how to sort them. You remember how I would sort the nativity figurines, utilizing a system I care to never divulge? Yes, I still do that.

This is an example of how I would thoroughly enjoy playing with the toys around the toys until Daddy would get impatient. He is so hasty.

Here is my dolly, Stella. I love her, but she has this nasty tendency of believing that her pacifier is solely for her use. Silly toys, why are so many of you so possessive?

I am still certain that this is how this works.

My horsey! I love my horsey! My GrandDaddyServant Gates made it for me. My parental units did not love me enough to bring it back to our residence with me. They say they will allow me to have it around the time of my birthday and say that I will forget. I never forget. Anything. Ever. Except for when I forgot about my horsey until seeing this picture....
Anyway, I was fairly uncertain about it at first. I believe I was saying in this photograph "Where do I put my hands?" I became more certain later. I will explain more at a later date.