Illness

I was recently unwell. So was Mommy and My Dear Sister. I did my best to stay positive, but coughing makes it difficult to breath and, despite my greatest efforts, it is difficult to smile while vomiting. It all worked out, however, as it meant an increase in my baths, cuddles, and opportunities to climb all over My Dear Sister and Mommy. Also, I dearly love to wipe my nose, so being sick provided me ample opportunities to preform this beloved task. I was a great helper to wiping all of the noses present, including my own, My Dear Sister's, Mommy's, and all of my dollies'. 

Kisses

I love showing affection. I demand to be a part of any affection that is shown. Whenever Mommy and Daddy hug or kiss, I insist to be allowed to join in. Sometimes I can sense that they are showing affection in the other room, and I cry because that affection is not being shown towards me in that moment. Kisses are one of my favorite ways of showing affection. For a time, I pushed them away as I was not able to participate, but now that I know how to kiss, too, I gladly repeatedly kiss whomever is willing on the lips: Mommy, Daddy, My Dear Sister, random princes, etc. 

Kitties

I love kitties. This has not always been the case, nor has it always been universal. For example, the kitty, Pascal, at the house of My Dear Sister's friend has always been one that I have loved. I would chase her around this friend's castle, giggling with delight. On the other hand, I have always been fascinated yet terrified of the kitties at my grandparents' house. I have described this in previous entries. Now my love for kitties is universally applicable to all kitties, and I demand to always be in the presence of the kitties. Do not waste my time with food, stories, or toys; I must always be petting the kitties. I am told there are certain rules, such as "Do not bop bop the kitties," "Do not kiss the kitties," and "Do not make hissing noises in the kitties' faces!" While I find these rules ridiculously restrictive, I abide by them as long as it means more time with the kitties (except for the hissing noises, which are, of course, the only noises to make to kitties).

Winking... and an Orange

I am the master at nonverbal communication. This includes, but is not limited to, pointing, nodding, shaking my head, and violently whacking spoons full of food of which I would rather not partake. Lately, I have discovered a new means of communication called "The Wink." One of my grandfathers has introduced me to it, and I have loved it (and the hilarity of watching others do it) ever since. It is very difficult, so please do not judge me on my failed attempts, but I believe I have nearly mastered it. It greatly pleases me that I have finally mastered something adorable that My Dear Sister still cannot do. Please watch the video below to understand what I mean.

Also included in this video is me eating an orange. Ofttimes, it is assumed that when I make a face of disgust, it means I am disgusted. This could not be farther from the truth. I always make a face of disgust when eating, even when it is not tart like an orange. True disgust is shown by me violently whacking spoons full of food out of Mommy's hand, as stated previously.

Stroller Safaris

As long as it is not too cold, I quite enjoy riding in the stroller. It is quite delightful being out in my kingdom, waving delightfully to all of my subjects and becoming friends with them. Even better is seeing strange, new animals, at which I can point and "Hmm!" Mostly I see birds and doggies, but I am not picky and enjoy all of the sites I am able to see. The only issue that I have with these safaris is that I am not able to face My Dear Sister. How am I supposed to enjoy being that close to My Dear Sister and not poke her in the face? 

Tasty Books

I love books, especially what are called board books. These books offer just the right texture for my chewing enjoyment. My parents try to dissuade me from this endeavor, but I have not found another texture quite like that of books. They try to take the books away, but I giggle at the thrill and turn away. They try to offer me other toys upon which I may chew, but I am unable to pull them apart with my teeth. They try to block my way to the books, but I log verbal complaints. They try to read me the books, and this works for some, but not for all. Listening to a book is more enjoyable when I have another book upon which I may chew while I listen. 

"This is just an example of one of the most chewable books."

Bop Bop

I have very little to say on this subject besides this: I love slapstick humor. And what slapstick is more hilarious than that of hitting your sister over the head with one of her own toys? That is right: the slapstick of hitting your sister over the head with one of her own toys while saying "Bop Bop!" I crack myself up. I do it every chance I get. My Dear Sister believes this joke to be getting tiresome, but I wholeheartedly disagree. As my parents are busy attempting to interrupt my comedy whenever I attempt it, there are no photographs of my art form. Instead, I have a video of me bopping myself.

Ornaments of Temptation

The most ridiculous of all Christmas traditions is that of decorating a plant within my own home with presents which I am forbidden to touch. A gate was even placed around the tree to attempt to prevent my curious hands from reaching these toys who, I am sure, would have loved to be more fully explored by my mouth. This did not deter me fully, however, as I would utilize the guise of wishing to be held to be placed within reach of all these trinkets of temptation. Even when presents (which I later learned to be toys I could gnaw upon wrapped in paper) were placed under the tree, I found these far less interesting than the already unwrapped toys just beyond my reach. I wished I had the height of My Dear Sister, who wasted her talent on attempting to turn on a toy that played music, instead of gnawing upon them all.

Christmas Toys

Christmas was a joyous season of my life, and I was sorry to see it go. Throughout it, there was much to enjoy. The greatest of all were the presents, most of which were presented all on the same day. These were toys that were presented to me wrapped in paper. As I have been strictly commanded not to eat paper, this seemed to be an insensitive joke - one in which I found little humor. I was continuously hassled to peel off the paper, and when I begrudgingly did so and, of course, put the piece of paper in my mouth, I was met with an uproar of disapproval. Both I and my parents lost interest in the attempts at that point. I did find the toys themselves interesting, however, if only for a brief period. I was expected to handle the inundation of stimulation without a second of hesitation. My Dear Sister found this easier to accomplish than myself, and I took the opportunity she afforded me by distracting our parents by her attempting to steal my presents to again engage in my favorite of all games: The Chase. I have slowly become accustomed to the fact that many of the toys in the Toy Room are now my own, although My Dear Sister has yet to grasp that fact.

Crawling

I crawl. I have been crawling for an exceedingly long time. I finally discovered that my past efforts of raising myself to all fours, falling on my face, and then starting the whole process over again just was not very comfortable, no matter how fast I could move. So I obliged to crawling like others crawl. I believed for awhile that I only need one leg to do this. The other leg was only there for support, and dragged nearly uselessly behind me. Now I can move even more quickly to areas which Mommy and Daddy wish me never to go.

Princess Education

My Dear Sister has been educating me in all that a princess must know. I have learned so very much, all of which, I know, must be essential to me ruling the kingdom. Most important must be the names of other princesses, as this is mentioned most often. I am also tested regularly on their correct positioning when their figures are placed before me. I fail this test every time, no matter which princess I grab or how I put her in my mouth. Each failure brings the disappointment of my instructor and her insistence I play with another toy instead. 

Snow

While I love my family, they have some odd ideas about what can be considered "fun." Take snow for instance. I know what rain is, and I do not like it. It is cold. A few times now, including on my birthday, there has been a different substance that has fallen from the sky that I like even less. It is called snow, and it is, somehow, colder and more deplorable. It is exciting to watch fall, I must admit, but I do not like it touching me. One morning I awoke to find the ground covered with a white substance they claimed to be an accumulation of the snow that had been falling from the sky. Yet instead of choosing the obvious option of keeping me indoors where it was warm and snuggling me even tighter, they all thought it would be a positive experience to embark into the cold. My Dear Sister asked me if I wanted to build what she called a "Snowman." I said no. She did not listen. The second worst part of the whole day was the fact that it required me to wear more clothes. I do not like that I have to wear my typical clothes, why would I want to wear more, including a hat? If there is a location that requires me to wear more clothes to stay warm, then you are taking me to the wrong locations. Despite my brief stint in the snow, I did enjoy watching My Dear Sister and Daddy make what they called a "Snowman," which ended up being a lot of work to build a big tower. I have nothing against big towers, I just did not appreciate that I was not the one to tear it down.