SO, SO true! Funny, but SO SO true!
Birth to 3 months, you will be head over heels in love with your kit.
They are so much like a human baby in habits, and like fluffy cuddly
bear cubs in play. They will adore you and pet you and love you like
there is nobody else in the world. You will feed a purring soft body a
baby bottle, burp them over your shoulder and cuddle all through the
night. You will take your infant around town with you everywhere and
make big plans about the raccoon jungle gym you will build in the middle
of your living room. You will take a roll of film a day and will put
your baby in your will. Nothing foreseen will ever interfere with your
immense dedication.
4 to 5 months, your scratches are beginning to heal as you have finally
weaned the walking weed-eater. The laceration inside your lip however is
infected. Must get that checked. The mattress on your bed has begun to
smell funny and you haven't seen your computer mouse in weeks. The
jungle gym forgotten, your head begins to plan a really big cage. You
want to go purchase the materials for it, but you shelled out you entire
paycheck to replace the contents of your mother's purse, which
disappeared during her last visit. You think you saw a twenty in the
garbage disposal this morning and her lipstick was in your shoe..OPENED.
Yet another hole in the carpet. Time to rearrange the furniture, but
where were those other two holes at? Oh well. Hit the garage sales and
find another chair..
6 to 7 months, you have booted the rotten little beast outside and to
get back at you, your raccoon has somehow broken into your car and
shredded the seat cushion. To make matters worse, he left you a nice
present of something smelly under the seat...somewhere...You try to get
to the carwash, but you turn the key to absolutely nothing. Upon
inspection under the hood, you search for broken wires...unplugged
wires...ANY WIRES...there are no more wires. They are all gone.
At 8 months old your kit hates your living guts unless you have a
marshmallow in your hand. You carry them in your pocket so you can get
into your house. He waits blatantly on the step for you EVERY DAY and if
you forgot your marshmallow, you prepare a tactical plan of entering
through the chimney, otherwise, you have the pleasure of sharing your
house with a 30 lb nightmare who will torment your every breath.
* I also must add in, that I read this to Gma, who was crying in laughter (as was I) but then she went on to yell about 'the rotten little bitch biting the hand that feeds you', talking about Agnes. This is when Gma REALLY learned that we weren't lying about the 'mums' turning on you *
They are so much like a human baby in habits, and like fluffy cuddly
bear cubs in play. They will adore you and pet you and love you like
there is nobody else in the world. You will feed a purring soft body a
baby bottle, burp them over your shoulder and cuddle all through the
night. You will take your infant around town with you everywhere and
make big plans about the raccoon jungle gym you will build in the middle
of your living room. You will take a roll of film a day and will put
your baby in your will. Nothing foreseen will ever interfere with your
immense dedication.
4 to 5 months, your scratches are beginning to heal as you have finally
weaned the walking weed-eater. The laceration inside your lip however is
infected. Must get that checked. The mattress on your bed has begun to
smell funny and you haven't seen your computer mouse in weeks. The
jungle gym forgotten, your head begins to plan a really big cage. You
want to go purchase the materials for it, but you shelled out you entire
paycheck to replace the contents of your mother's purse, which
disappeared during her last visit. You think you saw a twenty in the
garbage disposal this morning and her lipstick was in your shoe..OPENED.
Yet another hole in the carpet. Time to rearrange the furniture, but
where were those other two holes at? Oh well. Hit the garage sales and
find another chair..
6 to 7 months, you have booted the rotten little beast outside and to
get back at you, your raccoon has somehow broken into your car and
shredded the seat cushion. To make matters worse, he left you a nice
present of something smelly under the seat...somewhere...You try to get
to the carwash, but you turn the key to absolutely nothing. Upon
inspection under the hood, you search for broken wires...unplugged
wires...ANY WIRES...there are no more wires. They are all gone.
At 8 months old your kit hates your living guts unless you have a
marshmallow in your hand. You carry them in your pocket so you can get
into your house. He waits blatantly on the step for you EVERY DAY and if
you forgot your marshmallow, you prepare a tactical plan of entering
through the chimney, otherwise, you have the pleasure of sharing your
house with a 30 lb nightmare who will torment your every breath.
* I also must add in, that I read this to Gma, who was crying in laughter (as was I) but then she went on to yell about 'the rotten little bitch biting the hand that feeds you', talking about Agnes. This is when Gma REALLY learned that we weren't lying about the 'mums' turning on you *