Sage's Say

Let me make it quite clear that if any of the contents of this diary are brought up at my 21st birthday, I WILL SUE.

Reports of the great screaming fit of last Thursday are highly exaggerated. Particularly by the neighbors three doors down.

Likewise stories that I've become an alcoholic are untrue. I may have managed to grab mum's wine glass, and got to my mouth (quite a feat of hand eye coordination that was), but my spoil-sport mother grabbed it off me at that point.

I'm also quite justified in refusing to be bathed in Grandma's laundry tub. That thing is deep. My rubber duck could drown. What baby in her right mind would acept mortal peril over the option of being showered in an nice warm bathroom?

I've been quite busy lately. My latest gig has been modeling the up-coming range of ThinkingCute baby wear. The pay is lousy (mother tells me she will continue to feed me if I cooperate), but I have to admit that I do look quite cute. I particularly like the availability  of a 'for cloth nappys' size. Freddie Mercury may have know that fat bottom girls make the rockin world go round, but believe me, most makers of baby clothes don't, and life in nappy wedgie is NOT FUN.

I guess that about rounds it off for my say. I'm off to do some intensive play gym time. I've got the roll over and push up thing sorted (I can do more pushups than my mother!), but I can't quite figure out how to hook my foot under to get a good crawl happening. Wish me luck mastering this skill - I've got to find some way to catch Gran Helen's cat!