Your new favorite obsession is this:
Your grandparents brought it for your last week, an early Christmas gift, they called it. Way early, December baby! Whatever. You pink-puffy-heart it!
You wake up early to watch cartoons in it.
You talk to your babies in it.
You eat your Craisins in it.
You drink your milk in it.
You read your books in it.
You torment the Beagle in it.
You talk on the phone in it.
You wear your pj's in it.
You cry in it.
And, you pee in it.
That last part is my fault. I know it is. Last night after your bath, I let you run around stark-raving mad and nude. Your tush needed a bit of a break, so to speak. So you were au-naturel, baby. Running free.
You made an obvious beeline for your chair, and settled in to read your Sesame Street book. (You have a new fascination with Sesame Street; you love Cookie Monster and even Elmo.)
Anyways, there you were nude, reading. Daddy was about to capture this priceless moment on video when all of a sudden you jerked your book out of the way, looked down, and burst into tears. You were peeing in your chair!
I started laughing, Daddy was hollerin', and you were sobbing. What a scene.
I calmed you down and got your pj's on while Daddy cleaned up the mess and stripped the chair to be washed. Your tears stopped and we returned to the living room, but when you saw the spot where your chair has been and it was empty, you started bawling again. Oh, lil' dude, you are so tenderhearted. Breaks Mama's own heart!
I can only assume you thought your chair was gone forever, a form of punishment for having what can only be classified as an accident. It was an accident, sweetheart, and we're not mad at you. You eventually took your book back, and went and sat in your chair's spot, looking forlorn, lost. There you sat until it was time for bed.
The good news is your chair will be back tonight when you get home, all fresh and clean and ready for your adventures. All your adventures including diapers, that is.