New House Part I: Disapproval

I did not like our new house at first. Yes, there was much to see that was new (even though, I admit, I had seen this house on occasions previous to the move) but that was what I did not like. The new nighttime routine is a prime example of my distaste. When my parents first placed me in bed, I screamed quite mightily. Yes, it was my bed, but it was a new place that was not my place to sleep. Mommy retrieved me fairly quickly, and I insisted to go back to the old house. She did not understand, so I insisted instead that I at least be taken to the living room to watch some television and snuggle. Again, Mommy refused, stating that there was no reason to go downstairs, and that their bedroom was where they watched television and snuggled. I did not approve of this change of events. Eventually, however, I fell asleep in Mommy's arms after hours. It took a week or so, but I finally was able to fall asleep by myself in my bed at my usual time.

"Why did we have to move?"

New House Part II: Approval

I have grown quite fond of this. One of my greatest pleasures at our old house was staring into the backyard through the windows, and I can do that in the new house as well. There is a bunny the resides in this new backyard, which is just as enjoyable to watch as the squirrels at the old house. There are also stairs, which I quite enjoy going up, and I am learning to go down. I will admit that I failed at one attempt going down the stairs, but did not let that scare me from returning. There are many places to explore, including a new library location halfway up the stairs called "The Boat." My Dear Sister and I spend quite a bit of time reading here.

Moving

I liked our house just fine. I see no reason for a change. But there was, and here we are.The process of moving was an odd one. I would go spend time with Grandparents for long periods of time, only to return to our old house and find that it had changed quite a lot. I was not allowed to help very much in the moving process, although I thought that my services were required more than my parents thought. Once, for example, Daddy was pulling items out of a box, and putting them into two piles. I found what he labeled as a CD and showed him the value of it by examining it closely and carrying it about. I know not why such a handsome device was ever kept in a box in the first place, and I tried my best to convince him that such a wondrous item must never be placed back in a box. He disagreed quite foolishly. Similar incidents happened quite often. The suitcases used for moving were quite enjoyable as well, and hours were spent playing in a situation similar to the one seen below

Easter Dress Photography

So. Easter. I quite enjoy portions of this holiday. I like the chocolate. I like the adorable little animals that are depicted in toys and in life. I like the chocolate. I like the books I was given. I like eating chocolate, even if it means I have to bite through a foil rapper to reach it. I like that there's somebody who lived again, and can comfort me when I face scary things, like grass. I even liked my dress, once I finally grasped walking. What I do not understand, however, is why I must always be photographed in my dress immediately after having awoken from a nap.

"You are joking, right?"

"I am too tired to deal with grass right now!"

"This has been fun and all, but can I go back to bed?"

New Carriage

My parents recently purchased a new carriage. I know not the reason, as I saw nothing wrong with the old carriage, and I am not fond of change. My Dear Sister, however, was overjoyed by how "cool" the new carriage was, but I was unsure, and began crying only a few minutes into our initial tour. 

I have since grown to appreciate the "van," as it is called, but it has not been easy. My biggest complaint is that I am no longer able to reach My Dear Sister's hand to hold quite as easily, but we still make it work.

Boop Noses

I am beginning to learn body parts. As such, I am now well acquainted with noses. While trying to learn this anatomy, Daddy's nose started making a "BOOP!" noise whenever I touch it. I can tell that he does not enjoy this noise as much as I do, but as it is quite the hilarious sound, I cannot help but to continue to touch his nose. He cannot complain too much, as I have found myself far less interested in robbing him of his spectacles when booping his nose is an option.

Hats

I do not like hats. This distaste for objects being placed upon my head, however, does not extend to objects which are not meant to be hats. You see, it is funny, because they are objects that are not intended to be hats. As I am not yet able to communicate sarcasm verbally in the language of my parents, I figure I might as well exude irony in all of my physical comedy. This is just one of the many ways I do that. Just do not dare to put one of those filthy bows on my head.

"I am so stylish."

The trick is to play it cool and act as if the object placed upon your head is meant to be there.

I am so funny.