I want to say *%$# sometimes.

My new army man pajamas and I are best buds and I insisted that I keep them on during the first bottle of milk and some Sesame Street this morning. Then, I had a play date with a hottie named Sage. We hung out at her house with another dude named Aiden who cried but then got over whatever he was upset about. He seems shy and withdrawn but has a hell of a vocabulary and is two months younger than me. It's cool, though. There was a cat there named Isis and I man handled her. Mom told me several times to cool it but I am a physical guy. I love me some kitty cats. What can I say?

Then I ate dad's chicken for lunch and crashed out for a few hours. Dad came home, took me on a long walk with Brody while mom got a hot bath and a nap, that lucky wench. Then I ate dad's roasted turkey and veggies and a salad. Yes, I ate an arugula and baby lettuce salad with kidney bean, feta cheese and a Dijon vinaigrette. There are not a lot kids my age who would consume a garden like I did. Kinda cool, huh?

So the night ended with me refusing to take a bath after realizing just how tired I really was from my super awesome day. It's funny. I love the baths and playing with the plethora of bath toys I have but sometimes you just have to say enough is enough. And I said it. Get me in my crib with my blankets and my pals and get out of my room.

Tomorrow, I plan on freaking out my parents by trying, once again, to climb out of my crib and into trouble. I want to use some four letter words here, but my grandmother is on my case. I have a feeling this is just the beginning.