Gosh. I am not quite sure what to do with myself.
I suppose I could get to those Cheerios that are stuck in my thigh crevices, but that seems like a lot of work. What do you think we should do, Owen?
Ummmm, Owen? I said what do you think we should do? "Cheerios hunt" is still on the table, but you'll have to help me with this zipper. O? Owen? Bro?
Ho-ly Joe! He is out cold! This never happens! I am in charge. I can do all the things I dreamed of doing. All those overly aggressive hugs and face squishes that I couldn't reciprocate! My time has arrived.
I have got to call a few babies and let them know the time is nigh!
Let me start by sending a foul wind in your direction.
He is out. I can poke all I want. Mommy! Please take this sleep sac off of me so I can get down to brass tacks.
Mooooohahahahahaha!
Time to shut this off, mommy. I don't want this documented.
2 comments:
The infant super-sleeper has now transformed into a baby superhero - and miles cuter than your average action figure! Keep on truckin', Ellis!
Ellis's thought translations are perfect, Molly. You certainly know your kid. Loved it!
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