Diabolical Pictures

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 As Logged By:

Agent Chase 

 

 I've been wrapped and swaddled

And definitely don't feel coddled.

Now a camera is in my face

And flashing all over the place.

 

Mommy's hair is looking cute

And Daddy's staying mute.

I think I'll have some fun

And send the photographer on a run. 

 

Oomph!  Eek!  
 
This thing is wrapped around me so tight that I can barely breathe!
 
"Are you sure she's comfortable?"  Daddy hesitantly asks.
 
"UGH!  Of course," Mommy groans, "babies love to be swaddled.  Chase is just being ornery."
 
Swaddled, yes.  Wrapped this tight?  NO! 
 
"Is that your baby's name?  Chase?"  Asks a young man carrying a camera.  
 
Wait a minute!  What's that camera for?  We're not taking pictures again, are we?  We've already been through this, just a month ago.  Why do you need so many pictures?  Aren't three or four enough!?!?!?
 
Before I can make an escape, Mommy tightens the blanket squeezing me in tight and says, "Her real name is Chassie, but we call her Chase for short." 
 
Ah, yes.  The name given me after some great aunt or grandmother or some person I've never met.  I wonder if she was as diabolical as I am.  Does being diabolical run in the family?  I know Mommy has a touch.
 
Speaking of being diabolical, what's a mastermind to do when her arms are stuffed in tight to her sides and her legs are squeezed together like a vise?
 
Oomph!
 
Get me out!
 
"No, no, you stay right where you are or no cake later."
 
I do a double-take up at Mommy.  Yes, she definitely has a diabolical side.
 
SNAP!  FLASH!  SNAP, SNAP!  FLASH!.
 
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
 
I can't see.  The constant flashing has me only seeing bright stars.
 
SNAP!  FLASH!
 
"Okay, let me load these onto my computer and we'll do a few more," the photographer says and hops to the back of the room.  He plugs in his camera to the computer.
 
Meanwhile, Mommy gets a comb out of her purse.  Giving her strands a few, quick touches, she glances over at Daddy.  He simply smiles and stays exactly in the same place.
 
Smart, Daddy.
 
He knows not to get in Mommy's way when it comes to picture day.
 
I, however, may be smart, but I'm also quite diabolical.
 
"Alright, do you want to stand under the..."
 
BLEEEHHHCCCKKK!
 
"Really?"  Mommy sighs, but there's nothing else she can do.
 
She hurries to her purse and gets out a few moist wipes to clean off my spit up.  
 
"I'm sorry, this will just take a second," she says over her shoulder.
 
"Uh huh," the photographer says, though his face seems to be changing from a natural tone to something a little more green.
 
"Here we are.  All ready for..."
 
BBLLLEEEEEEHHHHHCCCCKKKKK!
 
"Chase!  This one is even bigger."  Mommy practically cries.  Daddy offers a sympathetic face and, apparently, that wasn't the right move.  "Aren't you going to help change her?"
 
Daddy vigorously nods and jumps into gear.
 
However, I have some more coming up... I fear...
 
BBBBLLLLLEEEEEHHHHCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!!!
 
"My camera!!!"  The photographer shrieks and runs from the room like a poor random soul being chased by the blob.
 
For a second, Mommy and Daddy forget about changing my clothes.  They simply hold still and stare at the door.
 
I guess picture time is over? 
 
"Is he coming back?"  Daddy hesitantly asks.
 
That's when my tummy starts to gurgle.
 
"Not, unless he wants to witness a proper baby's poopy."
 
 
Upcoming log:
 
 
 

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