A Diabolical Drop

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 As Logged By:

 Agent West

 

Wiggle, wiggle I'm so squirmy

Worse than a baby wormy!

Mommy wants to pick me up,

But I'm not going to letup.

 

Wibble, wobble, tumble down

Now this baby has a great big frown.

How will I ever feel better?

Definitely not in this wool sweater!

 

 What is it with Mommy and her crazy need to dress me in dorky, wool sweaters?
 
Do you know what is knitted into the front of this sweater!?!?!?!?  
 
A dancing Christmas tree.
 
Christmas was a month and a half ago!  But, Mommy doesn't care.  Mommy is 'oohing' and 'ahhing' and squeezing her cheeks as she gawks at me.
 
"You look so adorable!"  She squeals.  "You're my little dancing tree."
 
I'm a baby, not a tree.  If I could grumble, I would.  If I could spout back, I would.  If I could walk over and give her a toot that would make her fall on her back, I certainly would.   
 
AND IT ITCHES!!!!!!
 
Wiggle, Squiggle, Scratchy, Scratch.  I have an itch that I can't quite catch!
 
"That's my little, dancing tree," Mommy beams.  "Who's my dancing tree?  Who's my dancing tree?"
 
I'm in agony!
 
Get this sweater off of me.  Get me some relief!
 
"I just want to hug you, and squeeze you, and kiss you, and love you."
 
Mommy reaches out and I get a diabolical idea.  She wants to hold me, eh?  She wants to make me wear this itchy sweater of death, I'll give her a dance that is sure to give me a snack.
 
Wiggle, wiggle.
 
"Careful, West.  I don't want to drop you."
 
Wiggle, wiggle, wibble, wobble.  
 
"AHH!"
 
Down I slip from Mommy's hands.  Down I tumble to the floor, where I knock my head next to the box of sand. 
 
Ouch!
 
That wasn't part of the plan.
 
"WWWWWAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" 
 
"My baby, Westie!  Are you okay?"  Mommy scoops me up and kisses my head.  "You poor thing.  I'm so sorry.  I'm so, so, so, so sorry.  I don't know how I dropped you."
 
I know exactly how!  But, I never meant to hit my head.  This ouchie stings.  I think I feel my heartbeat.  I need this itchy sweater off, I need a snack, I might even need to toot.
 
"WWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
 
PPPHHHHHHFFFFRRRRRTTTTHHHHHHHPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTT!
 
"Whew!"  Mommy widens her eyes and yanks back her head.  "That's a stinky one like I've never smelled."
 
Change my diaper, change my sweater.  Get me some blendered beef stew, or I may toot another!
 
"Yada da.  Ya dada."  Mommy starts her singing as she changes my tooty diaper.  "Man, that's a lot."  She scrunches her face and holds it as far away from her as she can.  "Into the trash that goes.  There.  Now you're all changed.  Time to get you dressed again."
 
Before she can reach for the itchy sweater of death, I grab it with my tiny fist and hurl it to the other side of the table.  
 
"Don't worry, West.  I won't forget you sweater."
 
NOOOOOOOOO!
 
No, no, NOOOOO!
 
I toss it again, only for her to retrieve it once more.
 
"You're wearing this, little man.  I don't care how much you protest."
 
PPHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFFRRRRRTTTTTHHHHHPPPPPPTTTTTTTT!!!!!
 
 
Upcoming Log:
 
Previous Log:  A Diabolical Tea Time 

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