Pushing My Parental Units' Buttons

I love to press buttons. Let it be those which are upon remote controls, the Magic Box, or the computing device. It is quite delightful, although they seem to not appreciate it as they should. It is also a quick means by which I may obtain their attention. For example, when Daddy is writing this blog for me or looking for employment opportunities, I attempt to persuade him to fixate his attention upon me and cease wasting his time by pushing this glowing blue button. I know not its purpose, or why this big black, humming box is on the ground at all, but whenever I press it, Daddy fixes his attention upon me and the box -

How to Properly Ride in a Grocery Carriage

I have seen many of similar height riding in grocery carriages incorrectly, and I would like to take this moment to present the correct means of sitting. Examine the figure below.

One must always face the direction that the grocery carriage is moving. I know not why these seats are built facing the incorrect direction, but I do my best with what is given to me. This allows the person regal enough to sit in a grocery carriage to see what is ahead. This is highly preferable to being forced to gaze incessantly upon one's caretakers. It also positions oneself in a prime location to more effectively toss items of which you disapprove out of the basket and attempt to grasp items from shelves which would be more appropriate to obtain. Mommy and Daddy know not how to shop.

Temple Square, a Shape I Have Not Yet Learned

A creature named Nicolle of the species "Canadian" visited recently. She was the first Canadian I have met to the best of my knowledge. She has a relation to me that I do not understand, being Daddy's cousin. What that means, I know not, but she made quite the ideal play companion and tickler of toesies. We went to a place called Temple Square and were kind enough to bring Mommy and Daddy along as well. I quite enjoyed Temple Square, as it was a wondrous location to gaze upon my subjects and allow them to adore me.

"Excuse me, madam, but I do not believe you have paid your taxes!"

There were also many depictions of Jesus. I did my duty and pointed at each one and informed Mommy and Daddy of His presence. They are quite oblivious.

"Nicolle, did you notice Jesus was behind me?"

I had never before seen a Jesus from the Third Dimension and was quite impressed by His size.

We then traveled to a very large building with many more paintings of Jesus and others as well. Here is a fountain. I know not why, but Mommy, Daddy, and Nicolle all called it a "Foun'ain on the Moun'ain." They speak English quite improperly.

"This is fascinating. I have a sudden desire to wet myself." I did.

We then entered a room nearly large enough for me.

"Now, if we removed all of these seats and leveled the floor, this would be an adequate ballroom."

"This waterfall is even more impressive and a better diuretic than the fountain." My nappy was quite full.

We then gazed upon the building which is the namesake for the square.

I maintained my typical affect of indifference as I do whenever photographed with a temple.

Except I was caught at a bad moment in this photograph when I saw a child and became excited. I am ashamed.

Photographer Extraordinaire

Daddy is quite the prolific photographer, and I am the perfect subject. I am exceedingly photogenic, as you have seen. I know how to pose for whatever shot Daddy may be attempting to obtain. The best way to pose is always to cease whatever it is that you are doing and to assume a position of candidness. For example, Daddy will often attempt to photograph me when I am in the midst of doing something adorable. I graciously comply by desisting my current action and, although it is difficult, attempting to never gaze upon the camera. This is how Daddy is able to obtain so many photographs such as the one below.

I will explain this photograph at another time, but for now, bask in my photogenic glory. Daddy was attempting to have me look upon him and smile, but I knew better.

Slightly less important than my talents as a model are my abilities as a photography assistant. I make sure that I am always grasping the camera which Daddy is currently utilizing. Here I am, assisting Daddy with a photography shoot. I am so very helpful.

"This motion photograph of me walking is exquisite. Would this button here erase it from existence?"

Walking by Myself

I have started walking today. The initial moment was when Mommy and Daddy were going to play a game that Mommy invented entitled Trap the Baby. I did not want to play, so I decided instead to impress them with a game of my own called Walking. As my parental units would say, "I nailed it." Suddenly everyone, including myself, was quite excited and they remembered their game no longer. While my record as of yet is simply seven steps, as shown in the obligatory motion photograph below, I am still exceedingly proud of my accomplishment. My eyes widen with joy on each repeated presentation of my talent, thus showing the world my joy at nearly reaching emancipation and ruling this kingdom on my own.

Disc Golf: The Sport of Champions' Parental Units

Mommy, Daddy, and I went disc golfing twice recently. This entry will be a combination of both experiences, as they were fairly similar. The second occasion, though, was much improved from the first, as Mommy and Daddy were kind enough to take me to a place with more people to adore me and children to watch. As I have stated previously, I have found disc golf to be quite a lackluster endeavor. These experiences were, at first, very similar.

"In what ridiculousness is Mommy participating?"

"I see that we have returned."

The greatest part was seeing doggies. Here I am with an average-sized doggy and two big doggies called cows. Sadly, the second occasion had a severe lack of doggies.

"Woof! Woof! Woof! I am fluent in your language!"

I also enjoyed the rides, although I would quickly rid the joy from my face when we ceased our movement.

"Hehehe! I find no enjoyment in this! Hehehe!"

As I continued to spectate, however, I came to understand this activity more fully.

"Are you attempting to inform me that this is a sport?"

"I believe I may be at the beginning of an understanding on this matter. The purpose of this game is to throw that discs into those torture devices. Interesting."

"You can do it, Mommy!"

"May I play as well?"

As an exceedingly organized princess, I can appreciate the act of putting objects into containers and removing them once again. Perhaps I may continue to permit Mommy and Daddy to follow this pursuit. I have become such a giving princess.

Monkeys Must Be Quite Regal for Them to Be Likened unto Me

I have begun feeding myself, as I am a strong, independent woman who needs no caretaker. As of yet, this strong independence solely applies to feeding myself bananas, but it is the principle of the issue which shows how emancipated I have become. The obligatory motion photograph is presented below.

This all works well until I get bored and begin playing with the banana, or when I attempt to eat more than I am physically able, and spit out the half-chewed mess. In both situations, I enjoy myself, but Mommy and Daddy do not participate in my revelry. I know not why. Daddy occasionally calls me a monkey when I eat bananas and when I climb all over him. Recently, I was given a new towel as I had outgrown my previous, more princess-appropriate towel.

I am told I now resemble a monkey while wearing this towel. Monkeys could only wish they were so lucky.

Walking with One Hand

I am one more step toward emancipation, and no closer to understanding the concept of "puns". I now can walk alongside Mommy and Daddy whilst only grasping onto them by one hand. My preferred means of transportation is still holding onto ottomans and sidling along; yet, despite my many demands, ottomans have not been implemented globally for that purpose. I am quite proud of myself, and you should be as well. Here is the obligatory motion photograph.

As you can see, despite the advantages of walking, the major disadvantage is that it limits my ability to reach toys upon the ground. Just like everything else, I also refuse to be told where to go or what to do, unless they present a compelling argument, such as by asking twice or distracting me.

I Am in a Band

One of the many gifts bestowed upon me during the ritual of First Birthday was a collection of instruments. I have now forcibly coerced Mommy and Daddy to be members of my band. We practiced oft until the instruments suspiciously disappeared. I have attempted to locate them, but have been unsuccessful. I worry that I may have been too forceful in recruiting my band mates. Did I require too many practice sessions? Was I unkind when I offered constructive criticism on their horrific technique? Please, watch this session and let me know. I know that the music is horrible, but please, forgive my mother for her terrible technique and attempt to hear the beauty I am attempting to create and inform me of any ways in which I could be better in offering suggestions to improve. I welcome any and all insights, but I will inform you now that I refuse to change, as I am perfect.

Folding My Arms

Whenever we sit down to eat, Mommy and Daddy prolong my waiting by praying. I have written about this before, but I have now decided a new tactic to combat this delay. I have begun folding my arms whenever I see others do the same. I have discovered that whenever I do so, all present verbally adore my cuteness and are pacified. Thus, when they pray and, most importantly, close their eyes, I am then free to do as I please. When I deem the prayer as having gone too long, I can start pounding on my tray and making loud noises. These buffoons believe they teach me tricks, but in fact, it is quite the opposite. Presented is an obligatory motion photograph.

I Love to [Make Loud Noises in] the Temple

Some time ago, Mommy and Daddy and I went to a wondrous palace. We, along with many others, toured the interior halls and passageways. Mommy and Daddy carried me, as they should always. All of it was beauteous, spacious, and not owned by me. I did my best to remedy that particular predicament by barking out orders to all I saw, claiming them as my servants. I mean not to say I was metaphorically barking: I literally barked, quite a lot. It just sounded so majestic in the halls, I could not resist. Mommy and Daddy attempted to silence me, but to no avail. This palace, and its visitors, were meant to belong to me. It was not until we left that I saw a statue of Jesus and I realized what Mommy and Daddy were attempting to tell me throughout the tour: this was not to be my palace, but Jesus'. As such, I let him keep it, as I still love Him for His birthday on which I receive many presents, Worship Services when everyone may enjoy my presence, and saving us. Even so, it means not that I must be joyful in relinquishing my claim.

Cease your lollygagging, Daddy; build me one, too.

I May Have Been Shot

The worst ceremony of the one year birthday rituals is over, or so I hope. I was returned to the office of the nefarious Doctor last week, where I was subjected to the worst torment imaginable: I was forcibly restrained. After being in the wondrous world of the waiting room, where I roamed free and chased after boys, I was hauled into the dungeons to be tortured. I was first held while an object was rubbed across my gums. I did not mind the object, but I did mind being held down. It happened again later, and I am not certain, as I was already loudly filing verbal complaints, but I believe I may have been given more shots. Here are photographs of the aftermath.

Then today I was taken first to a banquet where I was fed ice cream and played with children. Everyone loved me. I left, and we went to a new place where I could play and, of course, everyone loved me. So I thought, until I was subjected to a much worse form of torture than before: snuggling. I fought. I screamed. I cried. Then a needle was inserted into my arm, and I realized that the whole endeavor was for a good cause, and I became calm. I do not mind needles much, but I do not appreciate being restrained, or worse, cuddled.

Baby Sitters Are Neither Babies Nor Do They Sit

I know not why, but ofttimes my parental units abandon me in the care of strangers. I am also unaccustomed to the concept of "time off". To me, it appears to be an excuse to shirk responsibilities. Another possibility may be that these people are simply requesting a chance to be graced with my presence. That is acceptable as long as they are not paid, as my presence is payment enough. As of yet, they have always returned, so I find little reason to file a verbal grievance regarding their absence. It is well that they return, as I care not to train new hires. These strangers with whom my parents leave me are called babysitters. When Mommy and Daddy first spoke of babysitters, I imagined this:

Luckily for me, they do not sit on my chest. Luckily for them, I do not sit on theirs. I do all I can to be a gracious hostess (or if I, perchance, am being babysat in their castle, I am a kind guest) to these people. You may consider this foolish, but I trust that Mommy and Daddy have run full analyses on these individuals' histories. What I do not understand, however, is to where do these babysitters depart after I am in bed? Worse yet, do my parental units desert me in the care of babysitters when I am already in bed? I wish not to theorize conspiracies, but I believe I may have heard another's voice while I am in bed but NOT Mommy nor Daddy. Alas, this skepticism is unfounded, and just as unlikely as Mommy and Daddy paying these individuals to come play with me.

Hear Me Roar

I am quite the ferocious little princess. In order to prove my dominance over my servants, I have begun roaring. Here is a motion photograph of them attempting to elicit a roar from me. I attempted to inform them on multiple occasions that, while I have spent a good portion of the last couple days roaring, I refuse to do so on command. I did roar quietly a few times in this motion photograph. Mostly, it is just delightful to listen to Mommy and Daddy creating such ridiculous noises. You understand not the difficulty in maintaining such a calm demeanor when one's parental units are saying "ROAROARoaroaroAR?" repeatedly.

Daddy Loves Mommy? / Happy Belated Mommy's Day!

I have been suspicious of a relationship between my caregivers for awhile now. While it is delightful and they would be quite the adorable couple, I have stated very specifically that my servants shall not have romantic relationships as that could distract from them caring for me at all times. As such, I have, from the moment they entered my employ, done whatever is within my power to circumvent any relationship which could brew. Whenever they begin to kiss, hug, or in any way pay more attention to each other than to me, I cry or wiggle between the two of them. This applies to any time I assume they may be doing any of these activities elsewhere in the castle while I am in my room attempting to nap.

"Oi! Quit the snogging!"

"Can I get some assistance over here?"

I would not even remove my restrictions this previous week when there was a whole day to celebrate Mommy for being such an incredible mommy. While I do agree that I have the best Mommy plausible, Daddy needs to realize that it is appropriate for me to give her kisses, not him. Mommy does an amazing job caring for me. She always knows what I need, despite the fact that there is quite the language barrier between us. While Daddy is consistently more funny (looking), he disappears very selfishly for long periods of time. Mommy, though, is always there for me. I love Mommy. Back off, Daddy.

I meant to withhold smiles until later in life, once I had decided whether it was a good fit. I could not help but smile being in this woman's arms. I am glad that it was a good match: rehiring MommyServants is so tedious.

GrandServants' Visit

The GrandServants visited for a fortnight recently. I am confused as to the meaning of a fortnight, but it sounds like a length of time comparable to their stay. They loved having me in their presence, and I appreciated their stay. Each of them had their benefits.

GrandDaddyServant G. was exceptional at eliciting giggles from me.

"Nononono! Please stop tickling my toesies! Why did you stop?"

"He is more proficient at tickling my toesies than you, Daddy."

GrandMommyServant G. was wonderful at preparing my hair and reading books to me.

"This is delightful to chew upon. It is a good thing that you are not going to do anything to my head."

This book features my reflection upon the final page. I cannot help but kiss myself every time.

GrandDaddyServant L. was a delightful play buddy.

He let me play with the letters on the windowsill. I felt a need to ask Mommy's permission first.

I believe I may have tired him.

I loved to play with GrandMommyServant L. as well, but she was usually the one capturing the photographs.

There was a brief return of the balloons. You shall probably see them again.

"This cannot be so hard. Hand that over." That is her hand...Daddy failed in photography. I guess she did get a whole post to herself with the haircut, though, so that is nice.

Daddy wrote that last part as an apology.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Who is Charlie?

Anyway, Mommy, Daddy, and I went to a chocolate factory today. Daddy was so excited about it that he wanted to publish this entry into my diary before previously written articles. I was, as always, stoic.

It was a delightful establishment. The only amendment I would have suggested would have been to have more chocolate on the premises available for my consumption. First, we were allowed to see a lady playing with chocolate with her hands. This was viewed as a noble endeavor by everyone except for me, who found their reactions somewhat hypocritical, as I am forbidden to do such a thing. We then watched a video about chocolate. Mommy and Daddy were enthralled, but I was more interested in the maze of seating arrangements I was permitted to crawl through and the plants I was not allowed to touch. Next, we were taken to view the factory floor. Only a few workers were making chocolate at the time. I am ashamed to say that my demands that more chocolate must be made immediately were lost in translation and all present simply adored me. Free samples were given, and I enjoyed the delicacies most excellently. Ice cream was purchased by Mommy and Daddy at the end of the tour, and I ate as much as I was permitted, constantly demanding more. I also attempted the same feat of playing with the chocolate, just like the lady at the beginning of the tour, but Mommy did not appear to appreciate that action, nor the addition of a treat smeared onto her wardrobe.

"May I have more?"

"Mmmmmmm..."

Swimming, or Loitering in a Large Bathtub with Family and Strangers Whilst Crying

Mommy, Daddy, and the GrandServants took me swimming last week. I was not very happy with the first time, and expressed my dislike of swimming. My parental units, in their infinite wisdom, then decided to take me back multiple times. They even bought a device that made the whole experience more traumatizing, which was very thoughtful. As a side note, you may have noticed that I understand sarcasm now. Returning back to the subject at hand, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but maintained my disinterest as a matter of principle. There were two principles, the first being the same lesson at which my parents are failing teaching me: when I say something the first time, that will remain my answer. It is not that I do not understand that they are attempting to teach this lesson, it is simply that there is enough of a language barrier that I can feign ignorance and continue giggling while attempting to break Daddy's glasses, no matter how frequently he says no. The second principle is that I would prefer standing than being carried. Thus, you shall notice that I am most happy when Daddy is holding my feet as I walk along the edge. The only people who could adequately console me were Mommy, occasionally Daddy, and most often GrandDaddyServant Gates. Sadly, my cinematographer on staff (Daddy) failed his duties on the days I was with GrandDaddyServant Gates the most. I would fire him, if it was not for the fact that I do not pay him. You should also note that I have begun blowing kisses. This is a way for me to show affection to family and discretely express my interest in boys as I have not yet mastered the wink.