Wow, what an awesome kid. Check out my mad skills, walking around while pushing the laundry basket, even though I'm not supposed to because it can scratch up the hardwood floors. I don't need your rules, man.
That's right: I'm small, loud, hilarious, demanding and adorable. I'm not walking yet and why should I when you carry me everywhere and I can make you hold my hands while I walk around. What do you mean your back hurts?
What's that? This laundry is clean? Does that mean I'm not supposed to throw it all on the floor as fast as I can when I see you walking toward me to try to stop me? Well, too late. Don't worry, I'm really super cute, remember? A mischievous smile and infectious giggle will right all wrongs.
These uber-rosy cheeks? Yeah, I'm teething again, which means I'll be cheerful one minute and inconsolable the next. But you don't mind. You love me and I can be as perplexingly unhappy as I want and you'll always be there for me. I'm pretty sure it's in your contract. What's that? No contract? Hmm. I was sure there was a contract, but no matter. You love me and that's far more powerful than any stinking contract.
Oh and just so you know, no amount of asking or telling me to stop dropping my food on the floor will do any good. It's just too much fun to give up. Also, chewing and sucking on chunks of orange and then spitting them out all over the place before demanding a fresh piece is both yummy and entertaining for me. And you do such a great job of picking up all the squished and slimy remnants. Same goes for pieces of peanut-butter toast and half-chewed chunks of whatever else you're feeding me.
But if I could make one small suggestion? Cool it on the nose wiping. It's a total bummer. Thanks.
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