Thursday: OK, I don’t mean to raise any alarms or anything, but something is…up in my house. My mom and dad are being super weird. Weirder than normal. And these are the people who put diaper covers on their heads and dance around singing a song they just made up (I listen to the radio, I know it’s not a real song, MOM). We got a delivery this week and inside the box were all these tiny containers. Then mom came home from the grocery store with all the stuff my dad uses to make the salads he doesn’t actually eat. And when I was demanding my mom carry me around the house so I could see every room again, I noticed a weird new chair. It had wheels and straps and what looks like a tiny table attached to it? These people are nuts.
Friday: Mom was super insistent I sit a lot today. Which she knows I don’t enjoy! Why would you sit me down like a sack of flour when you have two perfectly able arms with which to hold me, SMDH. The chair is still there, and earlier today, mom used the loud scary whirly thing in the kitchen. But her and dad didn’t have smoothies OR margaritas. I can’t with these people.
Saturday: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN. Today started out normal—woke up before the sun (they love when I do that on the weekends), got the boob, pooped on the couch, got the boob again, had me a nap. But when I woke up? Dearest journal, they put me in that chair. They strapped me down. The table trapped me in like some sort of plastic prison. And then they set before me a bowl of what I can only describe as a green goo. I went along with it because honestly, what else could I do? I was locked in like the dog behind the gate when I’m free ranging the living room. Then, THEN, mom got this wild look on her face and brought a spoonful of that goo to my face and PUT IT IN MY MOUTH. Just right in my mouth! I’m not allowed to put dog kibble in my mouth but somehow this is fine?! I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and…and then…well. I moved the goo around in my mouth. It felt like nothing I’ve ever felt before, but not in a bad way? The longer it sat in my mouth, the more I tasted it, and well, it was…fine? Not great, but fine. Mom tried another spoonful, but honestly, how much of this newness am I supposed to endure in a single day? I refused and they released me, but they seemed really pleased with themselves, so I have a feeling this isn’t over.
Saturday PART 2: It wasn’t over, dear journal. They strapped me again that evening, brought out a new bowl filled with new goo. But this one, THIS ONE was orange. I like the orange. The orange can stay. I allowed many spoonfuls of the orange goo to be deposited in my mouth, it was quite pleasant! Slept like a mom that night, let me tell you.
Monday: Yesterday was big, journal. Huge. Three bowls, three colored goos. The looks on their faces after each bite, you’d think each one was an acceptance letter to one of those Ivy’s they talk about all the time. I guess this is my life now? New day, new goo. It’s hit or miss, I won’t lie to you. But as long as I still get the boob, I’ll indulge these crazy parents of mine. They love words like “milestone” and “development”, so I guess this tickles their fancy. Feeling kinda bad for the, uh, surprises I’ve left in my diapers the last couple of days. But that’s their problem, right? I will say, whatever it is they’re feeding me, it’s awoken something in me. I never noticed before, but that stuff mom and dad shovel in their faces…it smells pretty good. Gotta figure out how to grab some the next time I’m within reach. Gotta go, goo’s coming!