Fake Samuel

Its hard enough trying to convince the folks that I'm "learning" how to walk (when I want to take off and head over to Buffalo Wild Wings like I did last night after "bed time") but this whole blogging thing is just a pain in the butt. Everytime I get near the computer the Folks are on me. They haven't figured out that I leave the house most nights, but they have a 6th sense to know that I'm 5 feet from the keyboard. And from what I hear they're going to move it into their bedroom, to make room for who knows what. Probably to do another crappy home improvement job.

I know it seems like "that" or "cat" but its alot more than that. Seriously - do you think I really find pleasure in going from room to room just pointing at things and saying "that?" Or pointing out seemingly mundane household objects to anyone who comes in the room. Oh hey you, look at Dat, yeah, the chair thats been there for the past 10 years, now Dat the piano, now Dat the light. I mean c'mon. When I say "Dat" I'm pointing out the difference between you and me. That I take the time to appreciate the little things in life, the chairs, the lights, the piano, and I understand my place in the greater scheme of "Dat." Or "Daaaaat" as I sometimes call it.

You know, the face that makes The Folks think I'm pooping. I just make it so they'll pick me up and sniff my butt. Then when they pick me up, turn me around, and put their noses up to my diaper, I just look out at those around and smile. I may be forced to take naps when they say, eat what they say, do what they want, go where they want, but hey. I can make them smell my butt. Heh.