There is a new order in 2042 land

Dictated, but not read, by Theo.

For just about four long months now, I have been living the life of a parcel, condemned to the bottom of the stroller to sit with the balls and bubbles and sippy cups and diaper wipes and whatever groceries my mother can shove between me and the bottom of the stroller basket. Sure I look happy enough in these photos . . .

11.21.07

1.1.08

but they were taken in the few moments on outings when I was not screaming my bloody head off. "Get me out of here!"

At first my mother thought I might not be a stroller baby and would rather be home. Then she started thinking maybe I just did not like sitting with the cargo. She was thinking of trading in the Phil & Ted for a side-by-side. Her friends said, "Are you crazy? You will not be able to fit in any doors. Put Gus down there." But she hesitated. "The weight distribution will be lopsided. The stroller will tip over," she said. Fooey. I know she just did not think Gus would go for it. But I kept crying and crying and finally she heard my cries! Hallelujah. I sit up front now . . .


Ahhhhhh

This is more like it.

And all is right in 2042 land. (Photos of Gus in "the tunnel" soon. Crazy fellow, he likes it down there.)