An Apple a Day Makes the Cuteness Stay

As Logged By:

Agent Rose


Being cute is what I do

When not acting diabolically.

I'm good at eating, too.

Especially when I have a hungry belly!


Apples are my favorite.

They're really crisp and sweet.

You can make applesauce with it

Or serve it with some meat.


I want my apple and I want it now!

Mommy thinks that, because she has me strapped to a highchair, I won't be able to make a fuss or a mess.  But she has yet to give me any applesauce to spoon or an apple to grate with my two front teeth.

I pick up my little spoon and slam it on my highchair's table.

"What's the matter, Rosie?"  Mommy asks with a grin.

What's the matter?!  Confound it, Mommy, don't you know how much I love my apple a day!  What?  You think this cuteness of mine comes naturally?!

It does, actually.

I pick up my spoon again and throw it down as my final warning.  If I don't get my apple in some form soon, Mommy will be dealing with a member of the Diabolical Drei when they're not in a good mood.  Move over, Hulk, this little bundle of cuteness is about to out do you!

"Is someone in a temper?"  Mommy asks in her baby voice.  "Does someone need some food?"

DUH!  I want my apple.  Now I'm craving applesauce.

"Let me see what we have for you to eat."

I roll my eyes.  Does Mommy really have to use her baby voice whenever I am upset?  I make a note:  Mommy's baby voice has got to go.  Let's come up with a diabolical plan to take care of that!

"Here's your water," she sets my sippy cup on my table.  "And here's some crackers."



No, no, no.  I want either an apple or applesauce.  Not dry crackers.

I pick up as many crackers that will fit in my little fist, swing my arm to the side, and drop the whole kit and caboodle on the floor.  Another handful and I throw my hand to send the crackers launching behind my head.

"Rosie, why'd you do that?  I thought you were hungry."

I whine and point to the fridge.  Inside is my applesauce, just waiting to fill my belly.

"Okay, I'll see what we have in the fridge."

That's a good Mommy.  I watch as she goes to the fridge and leans inside.  I become so giddy that I start tapping my hands on the table.  Any second now she's going to pull out my...


NO!  Not yogurt!

The last straw has been pulled.  The final cord cut.

A whine starts in the pit of my belly, growing louder the redder I turn.  Mommy braces for the oncoming torture.  She struggles to understand what she's done wrong.

Finally, I scream!  I scream and holler and throw a proper fit.  I bang my fists on the table.  I squeal 'til my face is as red as Santa's nose.  If I don't get my applesauce soon...

"Look, Rose!"  Mommy pants as she comes racing back from the fridge.  "I found some applesauce.  Is that what you want?!"  


Upcoming Log:  Food Fight
Previous Log:  Getting Even with Tissues


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