Wednesday, November 28, 2007

When Caspian tries to sign "please" (with prompting), he goes through "more," "book," "all done," and then random hand flailing. I'm looking for a good DVD signing series for this age, maybe to get with Christmas money.

When listing his verbal vocabulary, I forgot to mention the ever-present "banana" and post-prayer "amen" (which sounds kind of like a fake sneeze, to be honest). Charlie was teaching him to bray like a horse last night, too. Instead of "neigh" they were shaking their heads and going "brrrr" with their lips. It was pretty funny.

When we went next door to the park today, Caspian kept going "blech!" whenever he walked by pieces of trash. (I know, I know -- we should've picked them up.) There's also a bench in the park that is made up of a bunch of little holes, and he enjoyed picking up handfuls of mulch and leaves and poking them through the holes.

I've read this a million times, but I always laugh at one particular line:

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Excerpts from a Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow --but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...

By the time I get to the line about the dog being "obviously retarded," I lose it!

1 comment:

Kendra Jean said...

Hillary, I got to your blog from the Redeemed Website. I have a 13 month old son, John Hunter. We recently got him the Baby Einstiein DVD My First Signs. He LOVES LOVES LOVES it. And now they have a book to go with it... You should check it out!