Pouting on my bed.
Swimming.
Sniffin' Mom's flowers.
Wearing Dad's ridiculous hat.
Putting my butt in the garden, completely oblivious of such.
What?!
Pulling Dad around.
Having a real good roll in a real good stinky dead fish in the park, getting a not so good bath, poofing the next day, and making sure Mom doesn't do something funny with my bed.
No! I didn't run right through the lilac bush. At least not this time...
Philosophising in the sun, in the dirt patch I created, over all that has been and might possibly be to come...and also about how those baths aren't so bad 'cause Mom can't keep her hands off me afterwards and calls me pretty boy at least 20 times a day. My conclusion is that rolling in dead fish has several benefits.
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