It seems I have surpassed both my mommy and daddy in number of remarks.  They try hard, but their lives are simply less dynamic than my own.  They live in a limited world, whereas mine is a magical realm, filled with plastic balls and nap time.  What adult experience could compete with such a life?

The other day, Daddy decided to give me a bath.  I think I really impressed him with my super-duper tip-roll-spin into the water.  I was working on the graceful ascension when Daddy scopped me from the water.  So much for an elegant ending.  Oh well, maybe he'll lighten up and let me finish next time.  It was going to be very impressive.  And I still don't understand why I can't bathe in more than 4 inches of water.

Also, I'm a little frustrated with Daddy.  He managed to teach Mommy how to drive a stick shift, but he didn't bother to teach me how to crawl.  This whole time, I've been using the hands-knees-tummy-face technique, which made my nose sore.  It was by sheer accident that I realized my folly and learned to reduce hands-knees-tummy-face into just hands-knees, which is much less painful.  I wonder if he'll teach me to swim by tossing me in.  Stinker.  Also, this new method increases my crawl rate.  I'll be catching that elusive feline by June, I believe-if not by speed, then by strategic timing.