Dueling with the Cousin
As Logged By:
Agent West
I may have a black eye or two.
It comes with the territory of being adorably bad.
Bumps and bruises are nothing new
When dealing with Little JimJim when he's mad.
That cousin may have gotten a few good hits in,
But I've been trained diabolically.
This fight Little JimJim didn't win.
He'll think twice next time he deals with me.
"Guess what, West! You get to meet your cousin today!"
My what? Who? No, no, no. This can't be. I have a meeting scheduled. The Diabolical Drei must get together. It's been too long since we made plans to advance our Diabolical Baby Brigade.
Before I have a chance to leave, though, Mommy grabs me and forces me into an early bath.
Not so fast, Mommy! Not only are you forcing me to cancel my plans, but now you think that you can make me take a bath. Oh, how foolish thou art!
Up and down my arms and legs flail. Water splashing until everything is dripping, including Mommy's recently blow dried hair. I had such fun torturing Mommy that I had almost forgotten all about our visitors until a knock came at the door.
With hair and clothes still dripping, Mommy went running. I, meanwhile, took my spot by the toys to claim them all as mine. MINE! This diabolical, just-out-of-the-tub, baby was not in the mood for sharing.
"Ooh, look at how cute he is. He has your eyes! He has your laugh!" Mommy squealed from the front door. "Hi, Little JimJim."
Mommy's squealing went up an octave with every word. Three octaves with every breath. Until she sounded like a mouse on helium by the time she was finished. I curled my lips in disgust. Clearly this cousin, this JimJim, was not of the diabolical type. No, no. This JimJim liked being cute and sweet, adorable and funny. NOT diabolical or abominable.
Auntie Ashley sat Cousin JimJim in front of me. We stared. We scowled. We made silent threats with one another.
You smell like a poopy diaper!
You look like one!
Then Little JimJim did something I was not expecting. He swung out his hand, slapping me right on top of the head. You don't believe me! I assure you he did.
Don't worry for this diabolical one, because I slapped him right back. The battle had begun. The duel commenced with slaps and screams. We got into a full on fight until Auntie Ashley and Mommy Dearest had to come running.
I took a few blows. I'm not afraid to admit that, but he looked worse for the wear with hair sticking up and steam shooting out of his nose. I was quite proud of myself. This baby is a diabolical one.
Of course, we weren't prepared for the diabolicalness of our mommies. Into the bathtub they threw the two of us. Okay, so I may have forgotten to mention that some peanut butter sandwiches were involved. Mine was smeared across my head and his was plastered to his rear end.
Upcoming Log: I clap, you clap
Previous Log: How to Drink Tea Diabolically
With hair and clothes still dripping, Mommy went running. I, meanwhile, took my spot by the toys to claim them all as mine. MINE! This diabolical, just-out-of-the-tub, baby was not in the mood for sharing.
"Ooh, look at how cute he is. He has your eyes! He has your laugh!" Mommy squealed from the front door. "Hi, Little JimJim."
Mommy's squealing went up an octave with every word. Three octaves with every breath. Until she sounded like a mouse on helium by the time she was finished. I curled my lips in disgust. Clearly this cousin, this JimJim, was not of the diabolical type. No, no. This JimJim liked being cute and sweet, adorable and funny. NOT diabolical or abominable.
Auntie Ashley sat Cousin JimJim in front of me. We stared. We scowled. We made silent threats with one another.
You smell like a poopy diaper!
You look like one!
Then Little JimJim did something I was not expecting. He swung out his hand, slapping me right on top of the head. You don't believe me! I assure you he did.
Don't worry for this diabolical one, because I slapped him right back. The battle had begun. The duel commenced with slaps and screams. We got into a full on fight until Auntie Ashley and Mommy Dearest had to come running.
I took a few blows. I'm not afraid to admit that, but he looked worse for the wear with hair sticking up and steam shooting out of his nose. I was quite proud of myself. This baby is a diabolical one.
Of course, we weren't prepared for the diabolicalness of our mommies. Into the bathtub they threw the two of us. Okay, so I may have forgotten to mention that some peanut butter sandwiches were involved. Mine was smeared across my head and his was plastered to his rear end.
Upcoming Log: I clap, you clap
Previous Log: How to Drink Tea Diabolically
Comments
Post a Comment